Verse > Anthologies > Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. > A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895
Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908).  A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895.  1895.
Olive Custance (b. 1874)
SPIRIT of Twilight, through your folded wings
  I catch a glimpse of your averted face,
And rapturous on a sudden, my soul sings
  “Is not this common earth a holy place?”
Spirit of Twilight, you are like a song        5
  That sleeps, and waits a singer,—like a hymn
That God finds lovely and keeps near Him long,
  Till it is choired by aureoled cherubim.
Spirit of Twilight, in the golden gloom
  Of dreamland dim I sought you, and I found        10
A woman sitting in a silent room
  Full of white flowers that moved and made no sound.
These white flowers were the thoughts you bring to all,
  And the room’s name is Mystery where you sit,
Woman whom we call Twilight, when night’s pall        15
  You lift across our Earth to cover it.


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