The Sun is gone the shut of evening flowers

The sun is gone the shut of evening flowers
Still mark by quiet shades the last of day
& dew drops fall to tell the silent hours
Till nights pitch darkness lessens into grey
Then all the deeper shadows pass away
The richest colours are but under-stains
The black turns crimson & the crimson grey
The sunny dew drops overspread the plains
If not ‘the greater’ like ‘the lesser rains’
O God methinks it were a happy life
To live among these hills the summer through
& never heed a house nor city strife
& see the sky get shelter from the dew
[I]t where a happy life as man ere knew
To dwell in such sweet places.
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