EVENING LIGHT 



HERE falls an hour on summer evenings 

 when the sun takes to himself fairy 

 tinctures before twilight, endues his beam 

 with a mellow glow, blesses rather than 

 burns, and writes a benison in letters of red gold on 

 the weary earth. Now this period of benignant light 

 chimes happily with moments of human leisure, for 

 labour has ended upon its coming, and the working 

 day is done. There reigns a peaceful pause within 

 the confines of the farm, and all may enjoy some 

 rest. The house - places are empty for a little 

 while, and the cricket chirps alone. It would seem 

 that life of men and women is hiding for a space ; 

 each separate soul has departed into some haunt of 

 privacy, and the hive grows hushed in this gracious 

 hour before sunset. No voice breaks the silence, no 

 wheel grates and jolts without, no dog barks, no little 

 children shout, for they are all in dreamland. The 

 fowls have clucked themselves to roost, the horses 

 silently munch their supper, and, after milking, the 

 kine have returned to the meadows. 



In the lanes and along the field-paths the folk are 

 passing and repassing from the village. Here a man 



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