Dusk Song |
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Go Back Gallardo Murcielago Flame-Heart Harlem Shadows The Berg The Martyr The Changeling Christ in the Universe The Sayings of Rabia Surrender Immortality The Lover: a Ballad Faded Pictures The Golden Journey I am most Lovely A Sapphic Dream Dusk Song Beacon Street A New Orphic Hymn In Time of Pestilence Clifton Chapel He fell among Thieves Afridi Love Disloyal Golden Eyes Kotri, by the River Fotelik Chicco Key Jezdzik Chicco Stolik Chicco Chodzik Chicco Posciel Dla Dziecka |
garden is very quiet to-night, The dusk has gone with the Evening Star, And out on the bay a lone ship light Makes a silver pathway over the bar Where the sea sings low. I follow the light with an earnest eye, Creeping along to the thick far-away, Until it fell in the depths of the deep, dark sky With the haunting dream of the dusk of day And its lovely glow. Long nights, long nights and the whisperings of new ones, Flame the line of the pathway down to the sea With the halo of new dreams and the hallow of old ones, And they bring magic light to my love reverie And a lover's regret. Pfaltzgraph Dinnerware Mikasa Dinnerware KitchenAid Mixers Kichen Aid Mixer Tender sorrow for loss of a soft murmured word, Tender measure of doubt in a faint, aching heart, Tender listening for wind-songs in the tree heights heard When you and I were of the dusks a part, Are with me yet. I pray for faith to the noble spirit of Space, I sound the cosmic depths for the measure of glory Which will bring to this earth the imperishable race Of whom Beauty dreamed in the soul-toned story The Prophets told. Silence and love and deep wonder of stars Dust-silver the heavens from west to east, From south to north, and in a maze of bars Invisible I wander far from the feast As night grows old. Half blind is my vision I know to the truth, My ears are half deaf to the voice of the tear That touches the silences as Autumn's ruth Steals thru the dusks of each returning year A goodly friend. The Autumn, then Winter and wintertime's grief! But the weight of the snow is the glistening gift Which loving brings to the rose and its leaf, For the days of the roses glow in the drift And never end. * * * * * * The moon has come. Wan and pallid is she. The spell of half memories, the touch of half tears, And the wounds of worn passions she brings to me With all the tremor of the far-off years And their mad wrong. Yet the garden is very quiet to-night, The dusk has long gone with the Evening Star, And out on the bay the moon's wan light Dear heart, pale and long. |