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Twilight, a timid, fawn, went glimmering by, And Night, the dark-blue hunter, followed fast.

Her feet along the dewy hills Are lighter than blown thistledown; She bears the glamour of one star Upon her violet crown.

Then the nun-like twilight came, violent vestured and still, And the night's first star outshone afar on the eve of Bunker Hill.

Ah, County Guy, the hour is nigh, The sun has left the lea, The orange flower perfumes the bower, The breeze is on the sea.

She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down And rest your gentle head upon her lap, And she will sing the song that pleaseth you And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep, Charming your brood with pleasing heaviness, Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep As is the difference betwixt day and night The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team Begins his golden progress in the east.