The last beams of day were now faintly streaming through the painted windows in the high vaults above me; the lower parts of the abbey were already wrapt in the obscurity of twilight.

Once more the lilac-tree With twilight dew is wet; But, oh, I would that you might be Alive to love me yet.

~L'Amour, L'Amour.~ We catch the fleeting perfume of roses As the evening closes the golden day, And the rhythmic beating of waves in motion Comes from the ocean a mile away; In the west is dying the sunset's splendor, And twilight tender enfolds the land; Where the tide is flying a-down the river, And the grasses quiver, we silent stand.

In the twilight dim we have found love's tether, And are linked together, no more to part; While the white stars swing in a maze of glory, To hear the story that bares your heart.

And on the hillside, in the sun, The yellow harvest lay, And late, across the level lawns, The twilight met the day.

~With My Cigar.~ With my cigar I sit alone, Alone in twilight's undertone, With wav'ring shadows growing deep, While long-forgotten faces peep Midst curling mists of smoke, now blown Into a frame that doth enthrone A face that from my heart hath grown.

~The Cruel Maid.~ One summer night, in twilight dim, A fellow wooed a maiden prim.

~A Snare and a Delusion.~ Between the trees a hammock swings On the lawn, at twilight's glow; Oh, what bliss sweet memory brings Of the days of long ago!

The hills are red with the western sun, The twilight comes like a dream; But until the practice work is done I strain my eyes for his every run,

The banners of the day are furled; Thro' darkening space the twilight creeps And smooths the forehead of the world Until he sleeps.

NATURE ~The American Partridge.~ Neglected minstrel of the single song, Piping at twilight through the russet fields, Thy two soft silver notes, one short, one long, Rich with the careless joy that nature yields, Rise from the stubble round the well-stocked fields, Far from the chattering flock or warbling throng: Bob White!

Over the billow and over the wave, Over the vales and valleys, I seek for the spot where the night-wind dreams, And rests from its twilight rallies.

Cornell Magazine. ~A Lost Memory.~ Listening in the twilight, very long ago, To a sweet voice singing very soft and low.

Memory, unfaithful, has not kept that strain, Heard once in the twilight, never heard again.

Every day brings twilight, but no twilight brings To my ear that music on its quiet wings.

Every day brings twilight, but no twilight brings To my ear that music on its quiet wings.

After autumn sunsets, in the dreaming light, When long summer evenings deepen into night, All that I am sure of, is that, long ago, Some one sang at twilight, very sweet and low.

These qualities are strikingly illustrated by such poems as Into the Twilight, The Everlasting Voices, The Hosting of the Sidhe (Fairies), The Stolen Child.

But with the twilight of that glorious day the bats returned.

Then the Turkish night replaced the Turkish twilight.

His body was not luminous, his hole appearance was rather that of a man dressed in white and seen by twilight.

The red light lay on the western hills, and they were very beautiful in their summer greenness, stretching along the horizon in wavy outlines; the summer sky above was beautiful, and so were the quiet fields, and the ancient trees standing breathlessly silent in that glorious twilight.

Above him the surface water bubbled and eddied; below him was darkness; around him was only green twilight.

It is the child of contemplation,of that sort of luxurious intellectual mood which has always distinguished the Oriental character, and was first Europeanized in the twilight of the mediæval period.

Then we all strolled out in the early summer twilight and took our first look at Nuremberg.