Springfield Weekly Republican

The Republican

Twilight:

The last bright wave of day hath ebbed
From off the western strand,
And now, with balmiest repose,
Blessing the darkened land,
Twilight and Peace from heaven descend
Together hand in hand.

The reaper's long day's work is done
Among the glowing grain;
The chestnut boughs have swept the sides
Of the last loaded wain;
Only the cricket's shrill voice sings
Along the leafy lane.

A soft obscurity lies round
Meadow, and road, and stream;
Under entangled blue-bell stems,
Moveth the glow-worm's beam;
And white across the dusky path
The dog-rose petals gleam.

Anon the great dor-beetle sails,
With musical deep boom,
From where the hornbeam branches make
A cool and odorous gloom,
Into the jasmine's pendent mass
Of silvery star-bloom.

All silently the cercus buds
Their gentle eyes unclose;
No whisper stirs the lightest leaf
Of the old yellow rose,
That round the mossy garden wall
Long scented garlands throws.

Flowers grassy-couched in wood and dell
Know that the night is nigh,
For the first fairy bells of dew
Have rung their lullaby;
Faintly from out the distant brake
I hear the fern-owl cry;

And aromatic breathings come
From the far thymy lea,
Bringing the sweet sad memories
Of "summer eves" to me,
That, in the freshness of their joy,
Ah, never more shall be!

Chambers's Journal.