Thistle Down

By Ethel

Night & Day

Dusk had a slippered foot,
That tread before my eyes.
She wrapped the shadows beautifully,
And ruffled up the skies.

I heard the sounds of evening,
Coming strong and clear.
Echoing far in the distance,
Like music to my ears.

The waves of heat had vanished,
The night-birds made a start.
And circled in those realms above,
In a quick and upward dart.

Mellowing every shimmering glare,
From imprints of the day.
Patterned with the run of hills,
All mixed with tones of grey.

Melting austere shades out there,
Out where the shadows greet.
Where differences are closed to sight,
And night and day...both meet.


E.P. 1908 - 1989

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