EVENING
Reading edition
Sunset; and purple mist Upon the mountain’s crest, And pale blue trails of smoke that slowly twist Into the West. Soft airs that whisper “Rest,” And sunset clouds of gold; A bird’s low murmur from its hidden nest Across the wold. Red rose leaves falling, falling, ’Neath swiftly fading skies, The faint, far voices of dead summers calling, All ghostly-wise. Twilight and darkening woods; Smell of the dew-drenched sod; And over all, while perfect silence broods, The peace of God. Allen Clark, Jr.