The Glamorgan Gazette/14 September 1894/Twilight

by George Howell-Baker

Twilight.

Ancient offspring of night and day,
Partaker of each mingled ray,
The hostess to sun's fiery golden might,
Or to the moon's soft, silver, melting light;
Forerunner of her heavenly guests,
Trienially from eastern couch to west.
Now soaring slowly the crescent moon,
Cloaks parching nature in transparent gloom;
Bathed is her form in sunset's vivid red,
Or link'd in that soft hallow'd silver thread,
Gift of calmer, gentler, and softer skies,
Than blinding gauze of the sun's gaudy guise,
Enfolding on the past like nymph in lake,
Stirring up emotions as tho' to make
A picture of thy hope and sentiments,
Worthy of twilight when twilight tenements.

The cry of hooting owl—speaketh it too?
Mock moon's mockery of Sol's dazzling glow!

Or is their song now hushed to sleep,
Silently Nature's voices weep,
Hearts' symphonies are full of joy and pain,
Giving utterance to thy soul's refrain;
Thy brooding each and tender pensive rue
Finds consolation in the twilight's dew,
Like goddess fair her shadows kneel and pray,
And vies in sweetest dreams in dual ray,
Imploring peace, with river's rippling voice
Embracing thee and muse deep throbs rejoice.
Now cotter's trembling candle light afar
Sheds weak illumination with the star,
When fairy lanterns of the glowworms flit,
O'er verdant pathways where the dewdrops glit,
Stolen with the lovers listless passage,
When hearts o'erflow their language doth assuage
Befitting ceremony in each say,
Softly dwelling on the ear like dewdrops o'er the way.

Time is for hearts to meditate
In pureness that we penetrate,
But not discern earth's parti-color'd gown,
When steep'd day's glories are, in sombre brown
Shaded thro' some caving nebulous sprite,
Watching the sun's steady, silent flight
—His presence whatsoe'er it be
Speaks hollow words of mystery—
Pond'ring e'er, but ne'er to know her loyalty,
These echoes of dame Earth's profundity;
When nature is silent and awed at her spell,
Man reciprocates with their days' last knell
To gentle blend and silent fall
To dreamlike silence over all,
To beams of light urn'd in the fairest gloom,
Are twilight's soothing obsequies to sun and moon

Bridgend.⁠G. H. Rekab.