A Twilight Song

Why, rapturous bird, though shades of night Muffle the leaves and swathe the lawn, Singest thou still with all thy might, As though 'twere noon, as though 'twere dawn? Silence darkens on vale and hill, But thou, unseen, art singing still. 'Tis because, though in dusky bower, With love delighted still thou art; Nor hath the deepening twilight power To lay a curfew on thy heart. Thou lovest; and, loving, dost prolong The sense of sunlight with thy song. Thus may love's rapture haunt me still When life's full radiance fadeth slow Along the faltering west, and fill With melody my afterglow, And something of Song's morning might Linger, to make you doubt 'tis night.