  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. |
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