Alexander Louis Fraser (1870–1954)

SOMETIMES at close of day

As children leave their play,

And dusk dips into dark;

When winds sweet-scented blow

Up from the past, for voices dear I hark;

Then this comes soft and low:

‘Come in my child; for quenched is day’s last spark.’

Once more my feet those dewy fields do roam,

And through the gloaming shines the light of Home!