And now the trembling light
Glimmers behind the little hills and corn,
Lingering as loath to part. Yet part thou must,
And though than open day far pleasing more
(Ere yet the fields, and pearléd cups of flowers
Twinkle in the parting light),
Thee night shall hide, sweet visionary gleam
That softly lookest through the rising dew—
Till, all like silver bright,
The Faithful Witness, pure and white,
Shall look o'er yonder grassy hill
At this village, safe, and still.
All is safe, and all is still,
Save what noise the watch-dog makes
Or the shrill cock the silence breaks
Now and then—
And now and then.
Hark! once again,
The wether's bell to us doth tell
Some little stirring in the fold.
Methinks the lingering, dying ray
Of twilight time doth seem more fair,
And lights the soul up more than day,
When wide-spread, sultry sunshines are …