Explore "November Twilight" by Bliss Carman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Now Winter at the end of day / Along the ridges takes her way,
Upon her twilight round to light / The faithful candles of the night.
As quiet as the nun she goes / With silver lamp in hand, to close
The silent doors of dusk that keep / The hours of memory and sleep.
She pauses to tread out the fires / Where Autumn's festal train retires.
The last red embers smoulder down / Behind the steeples of the town.
Austere and fine the trees stand bare / And moveless in the frosty air,
Against the pure and paling light / Before the threshold of the night.
On purple valley and dim wood / The timeless hush of solitude
Is laid, as if the time for some / Transcending mystery were come,
That shall illumine and console / The penitent and eager soul,
Setting her free to stand before / Supernal beauty and adore.
Dear Heart, in heaven's high portico / It is the hour of prayer. And lo,
Above the earth, serene and still, / One star -- our star -- o'er Lonetree Hill!