An Evening in England

FROM its blue vase the rose of evening drops;

Upon the streams its petals float away.

The hills all blue with distance hide their tops

In the dim silence falling on the grey.

A little wind said “Hush!” and shook a spray

Heavy with May’s white crop of opening bloom;

A silent bat went dipping in the gloom.

Night tells her rosary of stars full soon,

They drop from out her dark hand to her knees.

Upon a silhouette of woods, the moon

Leans on one horn as if beseeching ease

From all her changes which have stirred the seas.

Across the ears of Toil, Rest throws her veil.

I and a marsh bird only make a wail.