Twilight at the Heights
The brave young city by the Balboa seas
Lies compassed about by the hosts of night —
Lies humming, low, like a hive of bees;
And the day lies dead. And its spirit's flight
Is far to the west; while the golden bars
That bound it are broken to a dust of stars.
Come under my oaks, oh, drowsy dusk!
The wolf and the dog; dear in hour
When Mother Earth hath a smell of musk,
And things of the spirit assert their power —
When candles are set to burn in the west —
SeThead and foot to the day at rest.
Lies compassed about by the hosts of night —
Lies humming, low, like a hive of bees;
And the day lies dead. And its spirit's flight
Is far to the west; while the golden bars
That bound it are broken to a dust of stars.
Come under my oaks, oh, drowsy dusk!
The wolf and the dog; dear in hour
When Mother Earth hath a smell of musk,
And things of the spirit assert their power —
When candles are set to burn in the west —
SeThead and foot to the day at rest.
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