So calm the air; the sunset's dying beat
Wafts slowly to me from the distant brim
Of silent waters; evening shadows dim
Press close the day's spent hours, loath to greet
The veiled advance of night; slumbering sweet
The stillness as the purple threads the rim
Of yonder crimson, preluding a hymn
Of choral wavelets silvering at my feet.
O restful solitude! Here life's frail trust
Grows, nurtured near the heart of mystery,
Expands into fruition, from the clod
Of cynic trappings, orbs to symmetry--
The place where light strikes through Time's circling dust,
And reverent hush attends the tread of God.