An Autumn Sunset

Palimpsest of twilight

by



DARKNESS comes out of the earth
  And swallows dip into the pallor of the west;
From the hay comes the clamour of children's
     mirth;
Wanes the old palimpsest.
The night-stock oozes scent,
  And a moon-blue moth goes flittering by:
All that the worldly day has meant
  Wastes like a lie.
The children have forsaken their play;
  A single star in a veil of light
Glimmers: litter of day
  Is gone from sight.


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