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The sunbeams dropped Their gold, and, passing in porch and niche, Softened to shadows, silvery, pale, and dim, As if the very Day paused and grew Eve.
Fair Venus shines Even in the eye of day; with sweetest beam Propitious shines, and shakes a trembling flood Of softened radiance from her dewy locks.
The summer day is closed, the sun is set: Well they have done their office, those bright hours, The latest of whose train goes softly out In the red west.
Parting day Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues With a new colour as it gasps away, The last still loveliest, till--'tis gone--and all is gray.
'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters; like a veil, Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.
How lovely are the portals of the night, When stars come out to watch the daylight die.
Beauteous Night lay dead Under the pall of twilight, and the love-star sickened and shrank.
In the twilight of morning to climb to the top of the mountain,-- Thee to salute, kindly star, earliest herald of day,-- And to await, with impatience, the gaze of the ruler of heaven.-- Youthful delight, oh, how oft lur'st thou me out in the night.
The lengthening shadows wait The first pale stars of twilight.
Sweet shadows of twilight! how calm their repose, While the dewdrops fall soft in the breast of the rose! How blest to the toiler his hour of release When the vesper is heard with its whisper of peace!
The gloaming comes, the day is spent, The sun goes out of sight, And painted is the occident With purple sanguine bright.
The sun is set; and in his latest beams Yon little cloud of ashen gray and gold, Slowly upon the amber air unrolled, The falling mantle of the Prophet seems.
The twilight is sad and cloudy, The wind blows wild and free, And like the wings of sea-birds Flash the white caps of the sea.
The west is broken into bars Of orange, gold, and gray; Gone is the sun, come are the stars, And night infolds the day.
From that high mount of God whence light and shade Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed To grateful twilight.
Our lady of the twilight She hath such gentle hands, So lovely are the gifts she brings From out of the sunset-lands, So bountiful, so merciful, So sweet of soul is she; And over all the world she draws Her cloak of charity.
. . . th' approach of night The skies yet blushing with departing light, When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade, And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade.
Night was drawing and closing her curtain up above the world, and down beneath it.
Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green, With magic tints to harmonize the scene. Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet broke When round the ruins of their ancient oak The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play, And games and carols closed the busy day.