Evening Music

By George Sterling

The myriad voicéd twilight clasps me round,
    As day in its encompassing decline
    For flowers that shone repays with stars that shine.
The splendid afternoon renounced all sound
That now in woodland maze or meadow's bound
    Rings from the grass or murmurs in the pine.
    O gracious hour! O gloaming half-divine'
O hush of noon by evening music crowned!

Better this peace than all the pulsing day,
    But best a voice that day nor twlight brings—
        Softer than noons made mournful by the dove,
Sweeter than harps when maiden hands delay,
    High as the song that Sappho's sprit sings—
        The Heaven and music of thy whisper, Love!


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