Evening Twilight

By ocean’s pallid strand
Sat I, tormented in spirit and lonely.
The sun sank lower and lower, and threw
Red glowing streaks upon the water,
And the snowy, spreading billows,
By the flood hard-press’d,
Foam’d and roar’d still nearer and nearer--
A wonderful sound, a whisp’ring and piping,
A laughing and murmuring, sighing and rushing,
Between times a lullaby-home-sounding singing,--
Methinks I hear some olden tradition,
Primeval, favourite legend,
Which I erst as a stripling
Learnt from the neighbours’ children,
When we, on the summer evenings,
On the house-door’s steps all cower’d
Cosily for quiet talking,
With our little hearts all attentive,
And our eyes all wisely curious;--
Whilst the bigger maidens,
Close by their fragrant flowerpots
Sat at the opposite window
Rosy their faces,
Smiling, illumed by the moon.