When Twilight Comes
When twilight comes and nature stills
The hum that haunts the dales and hills,
Dim shadows deepen and combine,
And Heaven with its crystal wine
The cups of thirsty roses fills.
Blithe birds with music-burdened bills
Hush for a space their tender trills,
And seek their homes in tree or vine
When twilight comes.
Soft melody the silence thrills,
Played by the nymphs along the rills;
And where the dew-kist grasses twine,
The toads and crickets tatoo fine
Drums to the fife of whip-poor-wills,
When twilight comes.
Frank Dempster Sherman.