Twilight Ritual

I long for the wine of assurance
Feeling the doubtings of men;
My ship returns to its home port
To a scene of my childhood again:

Aspens sing for the river's
Lyrics that never grow old.
Stars pin back the curtains of twilight
On the sky with a broach of pale gold.

The breezes are quietly strumming
Tree harps, while a killdeer's far cry
Tunes the heart to the peace of contentment,
To the cricket's lullaby.

Father calls all the family together
To kneel round the hearthstone in prayer.
The harps of the aspens cease strumming
As he talks to God listening there.

Twilight Symphony

(To Margaret Ball Dickson)

She guides a tranquil Pegasus and mounts
The crest of laureate hills, and humbly counts
The hours by friends who hear within her song:
The eagle's dauntless challenge, clear and strong;
The lark's rinsed lyric through cool April air;
The timid phoebe's lullaby of prayer;
The benediction of a killdeer-chime
Tuning the heart to peace at vesper time.
With mellowed overtones, serene and free,
How beautiful her twilight symphony!