Of eventide steals softly through the trees
Like rosy petals falling, and the breeze
Grows hushed until it sings a love-song, low
And sweet and tender, then I seem to know
You too are somewhere near and watching these
Last wondrous sights of day—God’s mysteries
We used to watch together long ago.
And, like a benediction, happiness
Fills all my soul, as if a wandering breath
From that high heaven had wafted down to me—