Classic Poem

O GREY and dewy Twilight,
Thou, who comest softly, bringing
Silence sweeter than all music,
Song of bird or mortal singing;
Thou, who walkest with thy shadows
Through the mountains and the meadows,
Hither come, hither come;
For the morn was dull and dreary,
And the noon was hot and weary,
And the hours that followed after
Were too full of care for laughter,
And too full of toil for many and too full of tears for some.
O grey and dewy Twilight,
There are those within the forest
Who are waiting for thy coming
And the potions that thou pourest,
Bringing balm to feathered bosom,
Wilted leaf and withered blossom —
Bid them sleep, bid them sleep;
For their morn was dull and dreary,
And their noon was hot and weary,
And the hours that followed brought them
Arid winds that evil wrought them,
For the crushing heat lay heavy on each little flower and breast.
O grey and dewy Twilight,
There are those in town and city
Who are ailing, ailing for thee;
For thou hast the balm of pity,
And the cooling calm that lingers
In a mother's gentle fingers —
Soothe them so, soothe them so;
For their morn was dull and dreary,
And their noon was hot and weary,
And the hours that followed after
Were too full of toil for laughter,
And too full of want for many, and for some too full of woe.
O grey and dewy Twilight,
There is one thou dost resemble;
And I feel that 'neath her footsteps
Even now the airs do tremble,
And the shadows fly before her,
And the silent stars bend o'er her
As she nears, as she nears —
Man and maid to joyance wooing,
Doves in concert with her cooing,
Round about her love and laughter,
Golden plenty speeding after,
And a magic in her presence to make sweet the salt of tears.