Poems (Cromwell)/Dusk
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DUSK
As flowers at dusk their choicest perfumes hold,
Some hearts hoard beauty when the body's old:
I see an age-bent woman lead the herd
To pasture, with no need of guiding word.
Some hearts hoard beauty when the body's old:
I see an age-bent woman lead the herd
To pasture, with no need of guiding word.
While the dull beasts in the tall grasses browse,
Inside her soul the earth's enchantments drowse;
The needles pause between her wasted hands,
For light is always mellow where she stands.
Inside her soul the earth's enchantments drowse;
The needles pause between her wasted hands,
For light is always mellow where she stands.
No motion marks her life's harmonious dream
It is a part of Nature's quiet theme.
Each day renews the uneventful past,
Although her spirit nears a change at last.
It is a part of Nature's quiet theme.
Each day renews the uneventful past,
Although her spirit nears a change at last.
From the grey threshold of her silent home
One night, her spirit, kin to evening's shade,
Will float away from crevices life made,
Like seaweed from a cliff into white foam.
One night, her spirit, kin to evening's shade,
Will float away from crevices life made,
Like seaweed from a cliff into white foam.