Explore "At Dusk" by James Whitcomb Riley on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
A something quiet and subdued / In all the faces that we meet; / A sense of rest, a solitude / O'er all the crowded street; / The very noises seem to be / Crude utterings of harmony, / And all we hear, and all we see, / Has in it something sweet.
Thoughts come to us as from a dream / Of some long-vanished yesterday; / The voices of the children seem / Like ours, when young as they; / The hand of Charity extends / To meet Misfortune's, where it blends, / Veiled by the dusk -- and oh, my friends, / Would it were dusk alway!