2

 Dusk deepens. A whippoorwill calls.

The whippoorwills are calling where

The golden west is graying;

"'Tis time," they say, "to meet him there—

Why are you still delaying?

"He waits you where the old beech throws

Its gnarly shadow over

Wood-violet and the bramble rose,

Frail maiden-fern and clover.

"Where elder and the sumach creep

Above your garden's paling,

Whereon at noon the lizards sleep

Like lichens on the railing.

"Come! ere the early rising moon's

Gold floods the violet valleys;

[Pg 11]

Where mists, like phantom picaroons

Anchor their stealthy galleys.

"Come! while the deepening amethyst

 Prev. P 5/126 next