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1842–1904

AT TWILIGHT TIME

Arthur Macy

At twilight time when tolls the chime, And saddest notes are falling, A lonely bird with plaintive word Across the dusk is calling.

Vain doth it wait for one dear mate, That ne'er shall know the morrow; Then sinks to rest with drooping crest In one long dream of sorrow.

Dearest, when night is here, To thee I'm calling, Sadly as tear on tear Is slowly falling,

Oh, fold me near, more near — In love enthralling! Here on thy breast, While life shall last,

With thee I stay. Here will I rest Till night is past, And comes the day!

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AT TWILIGHT TIME · Arthur Macy · Poetry Cove