THE sparrow has gone home into the tree; And the belled cattle, vague and pensive-eyed, Drowse in the twilight, to the red cliffside Comes but a faded murmur of the sea. Comes down the night; comes down reluctantly The mist upon the hill whence soon shall glide A pale and bashful moon; with arms spread wide Affrighted pixies seek the dark from me. These shall return: the mountains and the haze, The blue lobelias ledging all the lawns, The pixies, the lost roads and the sun-blaze, These waters surge to-morrow to this shore -- All these things shall return with other dawns But pity to the hearts of men no more. |