AN AUTUMN TWILIGHT
I stood up on a hill in the soft twilight:
The hour that daylight merges into night.—
To southward, woods and hills stretched far and wide
From side to side.
The hour that daylight merges into night.—
To southward, woods and hills stretched far and wide
From side to side.
Soft tinted were the trees in bronze and gold
And crimson; and tall evergreens towered bold
Against the sky and gleamed out like a blur
Of tinted fur.
And crimson; and tall evergreens towered bold
Against the sky and gleamed out like a blur
Of tinted fur.
To eastward towered a steep and verdant hill:
From out its side there gushed a little rill
Of diamond water, sparkling and cool,
And formed a pool,—
From out its side there gushed a little rill
Of diamond water, sparkling and cool,
And formed a pool,—
Where on a slab of stone upon its brink,
Low-kneeling, one might downward bend and drink
A draught more sparkling than the rarest wine
Wrought of the vine.
Low-kneeling, one might downward bend and drink
A draught more sparkling than the rarest wine
Wrought of the vine.
Above it bent a gnarled witch-hazel tree,
So low the diamond pool one scarce could see,
All hung with golden flowers and golden leaves,
Like tinted sheaves.
So low the diamond pool one scarce could see,
All hung with golden flowers and golden leaves,
Like tinted sheaves.
Upon the hill there towered giant trees
And richly tinted were their wealth of leaves.—
And at its foot there wound a little brook
Born in some nook
And richly tinted were their wealth of leaves.—
And at its foot there wound a little brook
Born in some nook
Far out among the hills, and there it wound:
A little, silver ribbon 'long the ground;
And both its banks as far as eye could see
Were lavishly
A little, silver ribbon 'long the ground;
And both its banks as far as eye could see
Were lavishly
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