A SCOTCH SUNSET

WINIFRED BORLEE.

The day is waning! See, afar,
Night's herald trims her peaceful light;
As dew there falls on vale and height
The silence of the evening star.

Behold! The purple mountains dream!
Entranced the darkling moorland lies,
But magic from the flaming skies
Sets burn and somber loch agleam.

The silence deepens. One by one
The heavenly torches stud the dark;
Between the trees a silver arc
Salutes the crimson-mantled sun.

Now darkness takes the distant vales;
The mountains close, the colors fade;
A ghostly mist in dell and glade
Mounts whiter as the twilight pales.

Above the spangled loch it wings
A peaceful prayer in upward flight;
The tender loveliness of night
Grows deeper with the calm it brings.

So sweet the silence, human fears—
All joys, all griefs that tear the breast—
As weary children sink to rest,
And eyes grow dim with grateful tears.

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