THE LADY NIGHT
The Lady Night has come again
And all the winds are still;
I close my eyes, and lean my head
Upon the window sill;
The sky is buttoned with the stars,
The hills have hid the sun,
And through the meadow, far away,
I hear the river run;
In daytime, when the sun is out
And all the flowers are gay,
I laugh and shout, and run about,
And tumble in the hay;
But when the Lady Night has come
From lands behind the hill,
She lays her finger on my lips
And makes me very still.
THE MARCH OF THE SHADOWS
From over western hill-tops, where the ruddy sun has dropped,
There comes a line of shadows, marching down,
They are clothed in softest gray, and they’re marching all the way,
From the distant, purple hill-tops to the town.