THE long northern twilight between the clay and the night,
When the heat and the weariness of the world are ended quite:
When the hills grow dim as dreams, and the crystal river seems
Like that River of Life from out the Throne where the blessèd walk in white.
TWILIGHT IN THE NORTH.
"Until the day break and the shadows flee away."
THE long northern twilight between the clay and the night, When the heat and the weariness of the world are ended quite:
When the hills grow dim as dreams, and the crystal river seems
Like that River of Life from out the Throne where the blessèd walk in white.
O the weird northern twilight, which is neither night nor day,
When the amber wake of the long-set sun still marks his western way:
And but one great golden star in the deep blue east afar
Warns of sleep, and dark, and midnight—of oblivion and decay.
When the amber wake of the long-set sun still marks his western way:
And but one great golden star in the deep blue east afar
Warns of sleep, and dark, and midnight—of oblivion and decay.
O the calm northern twilight, when labor is all clone,
And the birds in drowsy twitter have dropped silent one by one:
And nothing stirs or sighs in mountains, waters, skies,—
Earth sleeps—bat her heart waketh, till the rising of the sun.
And the birds in drowsy twitter have dropped silent one by one:
And nothing stirs or sighs in mountains, waters, skies,—
Earth sleeps—bat her heart waketh, till the rising of the sun.
O the sweet, sweet twilight, just before the time, of rest,
When the black clouds are driven away, and the stormy winds suppressed:
And the dead day smiles so bright, filling earth and heaven with light,—
You would think 't was dawn come back again—but the light is in the west.
When the black clouds are driven away, and the stormy winds suppressed:
And the dead day smiles so bright, filling earth and heaven with light,—
You would think 't was dawn come back again—but the light is in the west.
O the grand solemn twilight, spreading peace from pole to pole!—
Ere the rains sweep o'er the hillsides, and the waters rise and roll,
In the lull and the calm, come, angel with the palm—
In the still northern twilight, Azrael, take my soul.
Ere the rains sweep o'er the hillsides, and the waters rise and roll,
In the lull and the calm, come, angel with the palm—
In the still northern twilight, Azrael, take my soul.