For works with similar titles, see
Twilight.
| IV. — TWILIGHT.
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The sunset's roses faint and fain decline.
Inshore the still sea shimmers scale on scale,
Like an enormous coat of magic mail —
Sheet silver shot with tremulous opaline.
Rare boats traverse it, glidingly supine.
The Inchkeith light by moments flashes pale.
The distance darkles, and a far grey sail
Melts vague into the solemn evenshine.
The thickening dusk is quick with pattering feet
And swishing dresses, and the airs of June
With broad sea-scents and blown cigars are sweet;
And over yonder, where the ripples beat,
Sweethearts are wandering, while the yellowing moon
Sails the blue lift, and wide stars glance and greet.
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| William Ernest Henley.
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| Macmillan's Magazine.
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