A Winter Twilight

PALE beryl sky, with clouds
  Hued like dove’s wing,
  O’ershadowing
  The dying day,
And whose edge half enshrouds  
  The first fair evening star,
  Most crystalline by far
Of all the stars that night enring,
  Half human in its ray,—
What blessed, soothing sense of calm  
Comes with this twilight,—sovereign balm
  That takes at last the bitter sting
  Of day’s keen pain away.