Evening

The drowsy sun went slowly to his rest
Gathering all his dusty gold again
Into one place:
He did not leave a trace
Upon the sky except one distant stain,
Scarce to be seen, upon the quiet west :
So evening came, and darkness, and the sound
Of moving feet upon the whispering ground.

Like timid girls the shades went pacing down
The spreading slopes apparelled soberly
In vestments grey ;
And far away
The last red colour faded to a brown,
So faint, so far, the eye could scarce it see :
And then the skirts of evening swung upon
That distant little light, and it was gone.

The bee sped home, the beetle's wing of horn
Went booming by, the darkness every side
Gathered around
On sky and air and ground ;
And all the pliant trees sang far and wide
In cadenced lift of leaves a song of morn :
And then the moon's white circle, faint and thin,
Looked steady on the earth —  there is no sin.

From 1913 - Five New Poems