Луиза Сара Бевингтон (Louisa Sarah Bevington)

Twilight

GREY the sky, and growing dimmer,
    And the twilight lulls the sea;
Half in vagueness, half in glimmer,
    Nature shrouds her mystery.

What have all the hours been spent for?
    Why the on and on of things?
Why eternity's procession
    Of the days and evenings?

Hours of sunshine, hours of gloaming,
    Wing their unexplaining flight,
With a measured punctuation
    Of unconsciousness, at night.

Just at sunset was translucence,
    When the west was all aflame;
So I asked the sea a question,
    And an answer nearly came.

Is there nothing but Occurrence?
    Though each detail seem an Act,
Is that whole we deem so pregnant
    But unemphasizèd Fact?

Or, when dusk is in the hollows
    Of the hill-side and the wave,
Are things just so much in earnest
    That they cannot but be grave?

Nay, the lesson of the Twilight
    Is as simple as 'tis deep;
Acquiescence, acquiescence,
    And the coming on of sleep. 

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