The gray steed, twilight mounted, canters through
My quiet country town.
Then toil and rest meet in a rendezvous
With peace. The stars dance down,
With astral singing ripple-splash the stream;
A killdeer-chime intones the heart to dream.
The white-limbed aspens' spangles twirl the air;
A cowbell faintly rings.
A whisper, "God is near," comes like a prayer.
Selene gently flings
Her veiling spun of opalescent light
Around the mystic loveliness of night.
