Dark hills against a hollow crosus sky,
scarfed with its crimson penous and
below the dome of sunset long hushed
Cradling twilight, where the lone winds blow\\
A wake among the harp of leafless trees
Fantastic runes and Mournful melodies
with silver from the rising moon afar.
and from a gult of clear. unfafathomed blue
In the southwest glimmers a great golden star.
Above the darking druid glens of fir
where beckoning boughs and elfin voices stir.
An so I wander through the shadows still.
and look and listen with rapt delight,
pausing again and yet again at will
to drink the elusive beauty of the night
until my soul is filled, as some deep cup.
That with enchantment is brimmed up.
by Lucy Montgomery