Do you remember when the fluttering dusk,
Beating the west with faint wild wings, through space
Sank, with Nights arrow in her heart? The face
Of heaven clouded with the Day’s red doom
Was veiled in silent darkness, and the musk
Of summer’s glorious rose breathed in the gloom.
Then from the world’s harsh voice and glittering eyes,
The awful rant and roar of men and things,
Forth fared we into Silence. The strong wings
Of Nature shut us from the common crowd;
On high, the stars like sleeping butterflies
Hung from the great grey drowsy flowers of cloud.
(From The Harvard Monthly, June 1913)