Yes, night and that high regiment
Of stars that wheel and march,
Ever their bright lines bent
To a secret thought;
Moving immutable, bright and grave,
Fair beyond all things fair;
Though all else vanish, save
Imagination's dream.
NIGHTFALL
I
Eve goes slowly
Dancing lightly
Clad with shadow up the hills;
Birds their singing
Cease at last, and silence
Falling like fine rain the valley fills.
Not a bat's cry
Stirs the stillness
Perfect as broad water sleeping,
Not a moth's wings
Flit in the gathering darkness,
Not a mouselike moonray ev'n comes creeping.
Then a light shines
From the casement,
Wreathed with jasmine boughs and stars,
Palely golden
As the late eve's primrose,
Glimmers through green leafy prison bars.
II