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by Ruby Archer

Twilight enters like a spirit
With a finger on her lip:
"Done, O Toiler, be thy labor,
Lethe's cup I bid thee sip.

"Let me cool thy brow with dreaming,
Let me glad thine heart with peace,
And from every care of daytime
Give thy being full release.

"Though I cannot thrill thy pulses
With the ardent glow of noon,
Yet I bring a tender glamour—
Evening star and crescent moon.

"Weary, lean upon me wholly—
Heavy head and burning breast.
I will give thee calm for grieving,
For thy trouble—perfect rest."