Evening comes with drifting twilight touching silent trees,
Leaves stilled and breathing faintest whispers on an air
Imbued with lilac grace and petal scents; the meadow leas
Sigh gently through their shadowed loams of camomile
And send their blossom'd hedgerows through the vale where
Bending ancient ways converge upon a distant stile.
Evenlode, venusian gem in deep pale blue above,
Traced round with soft-drawn stillform clouds hued rose on gray,
Tells brightly of a higher calmer natural love
Allowed them at this perfect ending of the day.
Charles Mackintosh
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/evenlode/
