Classic Poem

. . . . . . THE twilight shadows grow
And steal the rose-bloom genial summer sheds,
And scented wafts of wind that come and go,
Have lifted dew from honeyed clover-heads;
The seven stars shine out above the mill,
The dark delightsome woods lie veiled and still.

Hush! hush! the nightingale begins to sing,
And stops as ill-contented with her note;
Then breaks from out the bush with hurried wing,
Restless and passionate. She tunes her throat,
Laments awhile in wavering trills, and then
Floods with a stream of sweetness all the glen.

The seven stars upon the nearest pool
Lie trembling down betwixt the lily leaves,
And move like glowworms; wafting breezes cool
Come down along the water, and iTheaves
And bubbles in the sedge; while deep and wide
The dim night settles on the country side.