Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TWILIGHT, by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN Poet's Biography First Line: In the darkening silence Last Line: Of a music ceased away. Subject(s): Silence; Evening | ||||||||
I In the darkening silence When the hilltops dusk and fail, And the purple damps of evening now No longer edge the vale: When the faint flesh-tinted clouds have parted To the westward, one by one, In the glimmering silence, I love to steal alone By river and by runside, Through knots of aspens gray, And hearken for the voices Of a music ceased away. II About the winding water And among the bulrush spears, Like the wind of empty Autumn, comes Their sorrow in my ears. Like the wind of hollow Autumn blowing From swamp and shallow dim, Comes the sorrow of the voices; Whilst along the weedy brim I follow in the evenfall, And darkly reason why Those whispers breathe so mournfully From depths of days gone by. III Is it that in the stealing Of the tender tearful tones, The knowledge stirs that bowers and homes Are dust and fallen stones Where once they sang? that on lips so loving Settled a still gray sleep, With tears, though mindful memory Still brings them from the deep? Is it that Conscience muses, "'T was for thee their deep hearts heaved?" Or is it so, that I am not What those best hearts believed? IV O falling stream, O voices, O grief, O gaining night, Ye bring no comfort to the heart: Ye but again unite In a brooding gloom, and a windy wail; And a sorrow cold like Death Steals from the river-border, Falls in the dampening breath Of the unavailing night wind, Falls with the strength of tears, And an unreal bitterness On the life of latter years. V I see the flags of the River And the moss-green alder bark, While faintly the far-set village lights Flash through the rainy dark: And the willow drops to the dipping water, But why, from shelf and shore, Comes the trouble of the voices Of the loved of heretofore? They never knew these shadows; And the river's sighing flow Swept not their ears in those dim days, Nor lulled them long ago. VI Sunk are the ships, or shattered, Yet amid the burying foam, On the wild sea-bar, glance here and there, As the surges go and come, Pieces and parts of a broken vessel: So to this stranger stream And its still woods, come thronging in, Thought, memory, doubt, and dream Of the noble hearts that sailed with me; Here to this desert spot Come their dim ghosts, where they indeed Were known and nurtured not. VII 'Tis the heart, the heart remembers And with wild and passionate will, Peoples the woods and vales, and pours Its cry round stream and hill. I look o'er the hills to the mournful morning, And it whispers still of home, And in the darkening of the day Impels me forth to roam With a desolate and vague desire, Like the evil spirit's quest Who walketh through dry places Seeking still, nor finding rest. VIII Yet, in the gathering silence, When the hilltops fade and fail, And the tearful tints of twilight now No longer edge the vale; When the crimson-faded clouds have parted To the westward, one by one, In the passionate silence I love to steal alone By river and by runside, Through knots of aspens gray, And hearken for the voices Of a music ceased away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOURNEY INTO THE EYE by DAVID LEHMAN FEBRUARY EVENING IN NEW YORK by DENISE LEVERTOV THE HOUSE OF DUST: 1 by CONRAD AIKEN TWILIGHT COMES by HAYDEN CARRUTH IN THE EVENINGS by LUCILLE CLIFTON NINETEEN FORTY by NORMAN DUBIE THE CRICKET by FREDERICK GODDARD TUCKERMAN |
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