Soft the dove-hued shadows mingle, Color fades, sound droops to sleep. Life and motion melt to darkness Swaying murmurs far and deep. But the night moth's languid flitting Stirs the air invisibly: Oh, the hour of wordless longing; I in all, and all in me. Twilight—tranquil, brooding twilight, Course through me, serene and smooth; Quiet, languid, fragrant twilight, Flood all depths, all sorrows soothe, Every sense in dark and cooling Self-forgetfulness immerse,— Grant that I may taste extinction In the dreaming universe. |