For works with similar titles, see Twilight.
TWILIGHT.
With one large planet, like a chalice prest
In her twin shadowy hands, comes Twilight, slow,
Advancing with dropt eyes, and bending low
Where day reclining pillows on the- West,
Laves his worn feet with tears, and with her hair
Mantles their whiteness; while arising faint
As the thought-prayer of some exhausted saint,
Throng the fresh evening perfumes through the air
And when the night with trailing steps draws nigh,
Sealing the Orient with its cumbrous gloom,
Muffling her brow with darkness, sits she then,
Till, wen the dawn keeps angel ward on high,
Behold her kneeling at the vacant tomb,
Clad in the dark blue of a Magdalen!
In her twin shadowy hands, comes Twilight, slow,
Advancing with dropt eyes, and bending low
Where day reclining pillows on the- West,
Laves his worn feet with tears, and with her hair
Mantles their whiteness; while arising faint
As the thought-prayer of some exhausted saint,
Throng the fresh evening perfumes through the air
And when the night with trailing steps draws nigh,
Sealing the Orient with its cumbrous gloom,
Muffling her brow with darkness, sits she then,
Till, wen the dawn keeps angel ward on high,
Behold her kneeling at the vacant tomb,
Clad in the dark blue of a Magdalen!