The scent of the earth is moist and good <br />In the dewy shade <br />Of the tall, dark poplars whose slender tops <br />Against the sunset bloom are laid, <br />And a robin is whistling in the copse <br />By the dim spruce wood. <br /> <br />The west wind blowing o'er branch and flower <br />Out of the wold, <br />Steals through the honeysuckle bower <br />And bears away on its airy wings <br />Odors that breath of paradise; <br />Dim are the poppies' splendid dyes, <br />But many a pallid primrose swings <br />Its lamp of gold. <br /> <br />A white moth flits from tree to tree <br />Like a wandering soul; <br />Deep in the lily a muffled boom <br />Tells of a honey-drunken bee <br />Wildered with sweets in that ivory bowl; <br />Many a subtle melody, <br />Many a rare sound all unknown <br />To the lusty daylight's fuller tone <br />Threads with its magic this hush and gloom. <br /> <br />Many a dear thought deep in the heart, <br />Many a memory, dulcet and fine, <br />Wakes as we walk in the garden to-night, <br />In this soft kissing of dark and light, <br />When the world has drawn itself apart <br />From our spirit's shrine.<br /><br />Lucy Maud Montgomery<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/twilight-in-the-garden/
