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Home  »  The Book of the Sonnet  »  John Hunter

Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.

III. Autumn Twilight

John Hunter

(To ———.)

BLEST Twilight,—season of my soul’s best hopes!

How dear to gaze upon thy deepening skies,

Breathing their balm o’er Autumn’s mellow dyes!

To list the voice of streamlets down the slopes

Of these sweet uplands, and from out yon copse

To catch the thrush’s note, low breathed, like sighs

From Love’s too happy heart, when meeting eyes

Transfuse the mutual soul; and, oft as drops

The pale sear leaf, to muse on change and chance,

Yet feel no fears! How should I, loveliest one!

While thou art with me, and in thy deep glance

I read my future fate, undimmed by woes,

Whose course shall, like this day’s, move gently on,

In varying beauty, to its last calm close?