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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.
She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
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She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your brood with pleasing heaviness,
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep
As is the difference betwixt day and night
The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team
Begins his golden progress in the east.
Beauteous Night lay dead
Under the pall of twilight, and the love-star sickened and
shrank.
Beauteous Night lay dead
Under the pall of twilight, and the love-star sickened and
shrank.
The sun is set; and in his latest beams
Yon little cloud of ashen gray and gold,
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The sun is set; and in his latest beams
Yon little cloud of ashen gray and gold,
Slowly upon the amber air unrolled,
The falling mantle of the Prophet seems.
The summer day is closed, the sun is set:
Well they have done their office, those bright hours,
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The summer day is closed, the sun is set:
Well they have done their office, those bright hours,
The latest of whose train goes softly out
In the red west.
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.
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.
Our lady of the twilight
She hath such gentle hands,
So lovely are the gifts she brings
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Our lady of the twilight
She hath such gentle hands,
So lovely are the gifts she brings
From out of the sunset-lands,
So bountiful, so merciful,
So sweet of soul is she;
And over all the world she draws
Her cloak of charity.
From that high mount of God whence light and shade
Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed
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From that high mount of God whence light and shade
Spring both, the face of brightest heaven had changed
To grateful twilight.