The grey sea drains the evening sky of light,
And saps the sun-given vigour of the air,
To make it keen and passionless and pure.
Of that hard ardour and sun-kissed delight
Cleansed now, ethereal, still with prayer,
Robed in cold chastity, robbed of allure;
Hushed for communion with her master, Night,
Trembling athrill, released from heat and glare,
This soul of earth can rest, content and sure
Untroubled by desires that eyes excite.
And he that treads the turf upon the hill
And feels the twilight kiss upon his face,
Forgets the scalding tears his eyes did fill,
Forgets the leaping blood and its disgrace !
Weekly Times 15.1.60