A Winter Twilight
Pale beryl sky, with clouds
Hued like dove’s wing,
O’ershadowing
The dying day,
And whose edge half enshrouds
The first fair evening star,
Most crystalline by far
Of all the stars that night enring,
Half human in its ray,—
What blessed, soothing sense of calm
Comes with this twilight,—sovereign balm
That takes at last the bitter sting
Of day’s keen pain away.