Night in purple fringed with the faintest crimson
Conquered the slowly paling glow of sunset;
Softly the western light expired; and yet
Came there no stars forth—
O'er the tow'ring cliffs and the vales and waters,
O'er the whisp'ring woodland of swaying hemlocks,
O'er the streamlets trickling down on the crag-rocks,
Came there no moon forth.
Rose in distance, a dim and fearful spectre;
Rose, accompanied by the forest's singing,
An omen of evil, certainty bringing
Of the divine wroth—
Far from northern forests descends some army;
Far in the heavens, their fires are reflected;
Waver the lights in an archway collected,
Sign of divine wroth—
Shines the arch in a flick'ring wavy brilliance;
Lighting earth from its quivering span of silver;
Shines the Aurora soft o'er lake and river,
Shines from the far north.
December 8, 1911. |
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