Country Twilight's Peace

White fingers of the birches idly strum

The harp of summer, while the placid stream

With low contralto music weaves a dream

Love-cradled in my heart. The first stars come

Pale saffron, with a young white moon from some

Still port afloat upon a silver beam

Of mystic vapors of the sky to gleam

Softly upon the river's platinum

Bright ripples. As night's curtain gently closes

A killdeer chimes the hour--No artifice

Of man can thus enwrap me in a fleece

Of calm enhanced by lingering wild roses.

Oh, restless world, when will you fathom bliss,

Your great heart know a country twilight's peace?