Evening

Grey hills outlined in rosy glow,
Reflected by the setting sun.
Drifting clouds tipped with gold,
Another day is almost done.
In the purple twilight there,
Evening lights shine,golden lamps
Strung o'er hills and dales
Where rising mist the terrain damps,
With silver beads upon each blade
Of waving grass and heather bell,
To droplets spilling in the pool.
Of gleaming silence in the dell,
Rippling the sleeping surface,
Into rings of crystal splendour
Where the lonely bull frogs sings
His love song strong and tender.
Rosy fingers through the trees
Transform the pond to ruby wine,
As the sun sinks into slumber
Drowsy birds sing holy compline.