| |
| GREY the sky, and growing dimmer, | |
| And the twilight lulls the sea; | |
| Half in vagueness, half in glimmer, | |
| Nature shrouds her mystery. | |
| |
| What have all the hours been spent for? | 5 |
| Why the on and on of things? | |
| Why eternity’s procession | |
| Of the days and evenings? | |
| |
| Hours of sunshine, hours of gleaming, | |
| Wing their unexplaining flight, | 10 |
| With a measured punctuation | |
| Of unconsciousness, at night. | |
| |
| Just at sunset, was translucence, | |
| When the west was all aflame; | |
| So I asked the sea a question, | 15 |
| And an answer nearly came. | |
| |
| Is there nothing but Occurrence? | |
| Though each detail seem an Act, | |
| Is that whole we deem so pregnant | |
| But unemphasizèd Fact? | 20 |
| |
| Or, when dusk is in the hollows | |
| Of the hill-side and the wave, | |
| Are things just so much in earnest | |
| That they cannot but be grave? | |
| |
| Nay, the lesson of the Twilight | 25 |
| Is as simple as ’tis deep; | |
| Acquiescence, acquiescence, | |
| And the coming on of sleep. | |
| |
