The Golden Hour

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I.

  She comes,--the dreamy daughter
  Of day and night,--a girl,
  Who o'er the western water
  Lifts up her moon of pearl:
  Like some Rebecca at the well,
  Who fills her jar of crystal shell,
  Down ways of dew, o'er dale and dell,
  Dusk comes with dreams of you,
  Of you,
  Dusk comes with dreams of you.


  II.

  She comes, the serious sister
  Of all the stars that strew
  The deeps of God, and glister
  Bright on the darkling blue:
  Like some loved Ruth, who heaps her arm
  With golden gleanings of the farm,
  Down fields of stars, where shadows swarm,
  Dusk comes with thoughts of you,
  Of you,
  Dusk comes with thoughts of you.


  III.

  She comes, and soft winds greet her,
  And whispering odors woo;
  She is the words and meter
  They set their music to:
  Like Israfel, a spirit fair,
  Whose heart's a silvery dulcimer,
  Down listening slopes of earth and air
  Dusk comes with love of you,
  Of you,
  Dusk comes with love of you.

© Madison Julius Cawein