Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Early Nightfall

THE PALE day drowses on the western steep;

The toiler faints along the marge of sleep

Within the sunset-press, incarnadine,

The sun, a peasant, tramples out his wine.

Ah, scattered gold rests on the twilight streams;

The poppy opes her scarlet purse of dreams.

Night with the sickle-moon engarners wheat,

And binds the sheaves of stars beneath her feet.

Rest, weary heart, and every flight-worn bird!

The brooklet of the meadow lies unstirred.

Sleep, every soul, against a comrade breast!

God grant you peace, and guard you in your rest!