The violet crown by Sir Rennell Rodd :: :: University of Virginia Library

The light that is on sea and sky
This April eve of earth
Would touch the saddest heart to mirth,
Or reconcile the lightest mood
To kinship with a sigh:—
The little cloud-flakes, evening's own,
Red with the dead day's blood,
Seem scattered rose leaves overblown
Upon a windless mere;
The sapphire mountains fret the gold,
These more than mountains here—
The dream-hills of the songs of old—
Cut luminous and clear.
The glow is on the April green,
And every outline softly keen
Stands out against the sunset sheen.
The world is washed in such a flood of air
So rosy and so freshly fair,

As though, if God in heaven saw meet,
To sweep all stains away,
And leave earth pure and virgin-sweet
As on creation-day.
O ship, with sails against the sun,
Dark on the amber deep,
Thou wilt not make beyond the west
A better island of the blest!
The splendid day was past and done,
The day we could not keep,
The purple died along the slope,
The moon blanched in the blue,
And steadfast like a good man's hope
The star of evening grew.