III

Eve has gone and

Night follows,

Every bush is now a ghost;

Every tree looms

Lofty large and sombre;

All day's simple friendliness is lost.

See the poplars

Black in blackness,

In all their leaves there is no sigh.

‘ Neath that darkling

Cedar who dare wander

Now, or under the vast oak would lie!...

Till that tingling

Silence broken

Every clod renews its breath;

Birds, leaves, grasses

Heave as one, then sleep on

Full of sweeter sleep and unlike death.