Twilight

So short the time, and yet it seems so long, Since last I saw thee, O my beautiful! The very thought is resonant with song, And wraps my spirit in a tender lull. I count the hours till I shall come again: Each moment seems a little rose of time; Each gust of wind thrills gently with a strain Of soft, bewildering melody and rhyme. There comes a perfume from the sunset land, And from the sunset vapor comes a voice; Some one in evening's gateway seems to stand, And o'er a flood of glory shout, "Rejoice!" I seem to look through all the lapsing years, And see my path wind through a holy land, While wondrous as the music of the spheres Is the soft murmur of Time's golden sand. I see my springs go by, a golden train; I see my summers with their corn and wines; I see my autumns come and come again, And roar my winters through the windy pines!