Music at Dusk

By George Sterling

O, twilight, twilight! evermore to hear
  The wounded viols pleading to thy heart!
  To dream we watch thy purple wings depart;
To wake and know thy presence always near!

What dost thou on the pathway of the sun?
  Abide thy sister Night, while grief so pure
  Makes heaven and all its beauty seem too sure,
And all too certain her oblivion.

One star awakens to turn thee from the South.
  Oh, linger in the shadows thou hast drawn,
  Ere Night cast dew before the feet of Dawn,
Or Silence lay her kiss on Music's mouth!

The Washington Post, May 1st, 1910, pg E4.

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