Evening

From upland slopes I see the cows file by, Lowing, great-chested, down the homeward trail, By dusking fields and meadows shining pale With moon-tipped dandelions; flickering high, A peevish night-hawk in the western sky Beats up into the lucent solitudes, Or drops with griding wing; the stilly woods Grow dark and deep, and gloom mysteriously. Cool night-winds creep and whisper in mine ear; The homely cricket gossips at my feet; From far-off pools and wastes of reeds I hear With ebb and change the chanting frogs break sweet In full Pandean chorus; one by one Shine out the stars, and the great night comes on.