of Dusk. 



The the beautiful old English west-country word. 



9?!™ n ?> The further north one is the longer the sus- 

 pense, the more magical the slow gradual 

 recession of the day-glow from vast luminous 

 skies, the slow swimming into the earthward 

 gloaming of incalculable shadow. What a 

 difference between the lands of the south and 

 the light-lingering countries of the north ! The 

 sudden night comes to the shores of Mediter- 

 ranean while the rose of the west yet flames 

 against the Cornish headlands, and the Sicilian 

 wave is dark while the long green billow wash- 

 ing over Lyonesse is still a wandering fire under 

 cloudy banks of amethyst. And, in turn, 

 shadow has come out of the sea upon Wales 

 and fallen upon the upland watercourses from 

 the norland fells, while in the Gaelic isles 

 purple and gold cloths are still piled deep upon 

 the fiery threshold of the sunset : and when 

 the last isles themselves are like velvet-dark 

 barques afloat in a universe of opal and pale 

 yellow and faint crimson, a radiant sun still 

 blooms like a flower of fire among the white 

 pinnacles of wandering berg and the everlasting 

 walls of ice. 



In June the coming of dusk is the audible 

 movement of summer. The day is so full of 

 myriad beauty, so full of sound and fragrance, 

 that it is not till the hour of the dew that one 



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