See tree-boles black against the dusky shine
Of early night; frost-blooms like flaunted lace
Upon the hills; flocked birds sweeping through space;
Sombre the forest aisles, all powdered fine
With twilight dust—sepia crystalline—
And to my heart, too, twilight comes apace.
What is that numbing fragrance in your hair!
Down those dim forest aisles,—lo! dancing there,
One scarlet clad! Slow notes shiver the night.
They tremble down her head disks like sunlight;