| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895. |
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| Twilight |
| | | Olive Custance (b. 1874) |
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| SPIRIT of Twilight, through your folded wings | |
| I catch a glimpse of your averted face, | |
| And rapturous on a sudden, my soul sings | |
| “Is not this common earth a holy place?” | |
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| Spirit of Twilight, you are like a song | 5 |
| That sleeps, and waits a singer,—like a hymn | |
| That God finds lovely and keeps near Him long, | |
| Till it is choired by aureoled cherubim. | |
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| Spirit of Twilight, in the golden gloom | |
| Of dreamland dim I sought you, and I found | 10 |
| A woman sitting in a silent room | |
| Full of white flowers that moved and made no sound. | |
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| These white flowers were the thoughts you bring to all, | |
| And the room’s name is Mystery where you sit, | |
| Woman whom we call Twilight, when night’s pall | 15 |
| You lift across our Earth to cover it. | |
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