ON OVER BRIDGE AT EVENING
Faint grow the hills, but yet the night delays
To blot them utterly. Below their ridge
Of shadow lies the city in blue haze.
I watch its lamps awaken, from the bridge
Whereunder, running strongly to the sea,
Water goes fleeting softly in a brown
Wild loveliness. In heaven two or three
Small stars awaken and gaze shyly down....
White and alluring runs the dusty road
Into the country, and with yellow eyes
A hastening car comes purring with its load:
Like some great owl it hoots, and then it flies
Past, and is swallowed up in dusk. And, singing,
A country girl with basket homeward wends
—Sweet as the dusty roses that are clinging
Around the cottage where her journey ends.
Night deepens, and the stars with strengthening rays
Thicken and go upon their lovely ways.
Where are the voices that have vexed us so?
Dear God, how quiet has Thy day become!
The clamorous tongues of Earth are smitten dumb,
Awed with the beauty that Thy work doth show.