I sat in the gathering twilight As the Autumn Sunk Sank low The full moon rose softly light In the west a burnished glow. Fields and woods softly silently Gathering up their twilight clothes Draping them loosely about them In fashion that only nature knows. Harmony and softness the key note Of the day’s departing lullaby No sound of fear for coming night No movements, stirring nor cry Just a quiet, silent blending In the process never ending Of our energies being expended Then rest while they’re mended. Tis a time for men to dream Of things they hold most dear For in the ritual of twilight Even the stars are drawn near.