THE slender moon and one pale star, <br />A rose leaf and a silver bee <br />From some god's garden blown afar, <br />Go down the gold deep tranquilly. <br /> <br />Within the south there rolls and grows <br />A mighty town with tower and spire, <br />From a cloud bastion masked with rose <br />The lightning flashes diamond fire. <br /> <br />The purple martin darts about <br />The purlieus of the iris fen; <br />The king-bird rushes up and out, <br />He screams and whirls and screams again. <br /> <br />A thrush is hidden in a maze <br />Of cedar buds and tamarac bloom, <br />He throws his rapid flexile phrase, <br />A flash of emeralds in the gloom. <br /> <br />A voice is singing from the hill <br />A happy love of long ago; <br />Ah! tender voice, be still, be still, <br />''Tis sometimes better not to know.' <br /> <br />The rapture from the amber height <br />Floats tremblingly along the plain, <br />Where in the reeds with fairy light <br />The lingering fireflies gleam again. <br /> <br />Buried in dingles more remote, <br />Or drifted from some ferny rise, <br />The swooning of the golden throat <br />Drops in the mellow dusk and dies. <br /> <br />A soft wind passes lightly drawn, <br />A wave leaps silverly and stirs <br />The rustling sedge, and then is gone <br />Down the black cavern in the firs.<br /><br />Duncan Campbell Scott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-voice-and-the-dusk/
