The shadows fall on Twin Lake fair
As crimson sets the Autumn sun;
A holy hush is on the air
Of eventide and day is done.

No zephyrs kiss the little lake;
So still and calm is either shore,
That on her face dim shadows wake
And deepen ever more and more.

And where the long-leaf laurels grow
A cuckoo sounds the hour of rest,
And fondly answering far below
Its mate is calling from her nest.

Now comes the twilight, calm and still,
And, with a cloak of sable hue,
Half hides the lake and upland hill
That faint and fainter fades from view.

And through the broken web of night
Each stalwart star with even ray
Reflects upon the lake a light
To guide a boatman on his way.

And soon the massive moon doth ride
Athwart the pine trees' heavy shade,
That doth her fiery chariot hide,
As an apparent halt is made.

And sweetly from a maiden fair
In yon canoe that skirts the shore
A laugh rings out upon the air
And echoes softly o'er and o'er

Till dying on the distant hill,
An evening silence settles far,—
A quietness, so calm, so still,
With rising moon and silent star—

That peace, sweet peace subdues the soul,
While on the clear and pensive air
The bells of Como softly toll
The ever-sacred hour of prayer.

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