Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green,
With magic tints to harmonize the scene.
Stilled is the read more

Twilight's soft dews steal o'er the village-green,
With magic tints to harmonize the scene.
Stilled is the hum that through the hamlet broke
When round the ruins of their ancient oak
The peasants flocked to hear the minstrel play,
And games and carols closed the busy day.

Then the nun-like twilight came, violent vestured and still,
And the night's first star outshone afar on the eve read more

Then the nun-like twilight came, violent vestured and still,
And the night's first star outshone afar on the eve of Bunker
Hill.

In the twilight of morning to climb to the top of the mountain,--
Thee to salute, kindly star, earliest read more

In the twilight of morning to climb to the top of the mountain,--
Thee to salute, kindly star, earliest herald of day,--
And to await, with impatience, the gaze of the ruler of heaven.--
Youthful delight, oh, how oft lur'st thou me out in the night.

Her feet along the dewy hills
Are lighter than blown thistledown;
She bears the glamour of one read more

Her feet along the dewy hills
Are lighter than blown thistledown;
She bears the glamour of one star
Upon her violet crown.

Parting day
Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues
With a new colour as it gasps read more

Parting day
Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues
With a new colour as it gasps away,
The last still loveliest, till--'tis gone--and all is gray.

How lovely are the portals of the night,
When stars come out to watch the daylight die.

How lovely are the portals of the night,
When stars come out to watch the daylight die.

'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down
Over the waste of waters; like a veil,
Which, read more

'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down
Over the waste of waters; like a veil,
Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown
Of one whose hate is mask'd but to assail.

The gloaming comes, the day is spent,
The sun goes out of sight,
And painted is the read more

The gloaming comes, the day is spent,
The sun goes out of sight,
And painted is the occident
With purple sanguine bright.

. . . th' approach of night
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When falling dews read more

. . . th' approach of night
The skies yet blushing with departing light,
When falling dews with spangles deck'd the glade,
And the low sun had lengthen'd ev'ry shade.