Dusk

Earth’s parchèd lips Drink coolness once again, for daylight dies. The young moon dips, A threaded gleam where sunset languid lies, And slowly twilight opens starry eyes.

Low in the West Day’s fading embers cast a last faint glow Behind a crest Where curving hills on primrose paleness show Sharp-lined in jet. Dusk stillness broods below.

A first long sigh Stirs from the broad and dew-wet breast of night. The leaves reply With soft small rustling, moths take ghostly flight, And waking crickets shrill long-drawn delight.