Evening
So calm the air; the sunset's dying beat
Wafts slowly to me from the distant brim
Of silent waters; evening shadows dim
Press close the day's spent hours, loath to greet
The veiled advance of night; slumbering sweet
The stillness as the purple threads the rim
Of yonder crimson, preluding a hymn
Of choral wavelets silvering at my feet.
O restful solitude! Here life's frail trust
Grows, nurtured near the heart of mystery,
Expands into fruition, from the clod
Of cynic trappings, orbs to symmetry—
The place where light strikes through Time's circling dust,
And reverent hush attends the tread of God.