The Last Dimming Hour
There’s a hushed, eerie quietness, restful, unknown.
All sheep are silent, the song birds have flown.
This veil of first twilight, creeping, in peace,
The yawning day’s ending; its happy release.
There’s a hushed, eerie quietness, restful, unknown.
All sheep are silent, the song birds have flown.
This veil of first twilight, creeping, in peace,
The yawning day’s ending; its happy release.