TWILIGHT AND I WENT HAND IN HAND

TWILIGHT and I went hand in hand, As lovers walk in shining Mays, O’er musky, memory-haunted ways, Across a lonely harvest-land, Where west winds chanted in the Wheat An old, old vesper wondrous sweet.

Oh, Twilight was a comrade rare For gypsy heath or templed grove, In her gray vesture, shadow-wove ;

I saw the darkness of her hair

F aint—mirrored in a field-pool dim,

As we stood tip—toe on its rim.

We went as lightly as on wings Through many a scented chamber fair, Among the pines and balsams, where

I could have dreamed of darling things,

And ever as we went I knew

The peeping fairy folk went too.

I could have lingered now and then By gates of moonrise that might lead To some forgotten, spiceried mead, Or in some mossy, cloistered glen, Where silence, very still and deep, Seemed fallen in enchanted sleep.

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