SILENCE and peace. The warm, love-bringing Night
From the pure zenith soft and slow descending
Lulls the sweet air to rest, with the day’s ending,
Save where the dark bat wheels his fickle flight.
Deep glows the rosy-golden West, still bright,
Beyond the plumy toss of elms down-bending,
Whilst on the close-cut lawns, blurring and bending,
Tall chapel-windows cast their ruddy light.
Now the clear blue of the mid dome of heaven— George Allan England
Darkens, immeasurably deep and still.
That one full star which ushers in the even
Burns in rapt glory o’er the steadfast spire;
And the Night-angel strews at his sweet will
The silvern star-dust of the heavenly choir.