I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair
And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells
To lead the cattle forth. A thousand bells
Go chiming after her across the fair
And flowery uplands, while the rosy flare
Of sunset on the snowy mountain dwells,
And valleys darken, and the drowsy spells
Of peace are woven through the purple air.
Dear is the magic of this hour: she seems
To walk before the dark by falling rills,
And lend a sweeter song to hidden streams;
She opens all the doors of night, and fills
With moving bells the music of my dreams,
That wander far among the sleeping hills.
(Henry Van Dyke)
More Poetry from Henry Van Dyke:
Henry Van Dyke Poems based on Topics: Night, War & Peace, Dreams, Music, Fairness, Sleep, Sleeping- Vera (Henry Van Dyke Poems)
- The Builders (Henry Van Dyke Poems)
- The Toiling Of Felix (Henry Van Dyke Poems)
- Texas (Henry Van Dyke Poems)
- Who Follow The Flag (Henry Van Dyke Poems)
- Eight Echoes From The Poems Of August Angellier (Henry Van Dyke Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Night Poems, War & Peace Poems, Fairness Poems, Dreams Poems, Sleep Poems, Music Poems, Sleeping PoemsBased on Keywords: dewy, woven, dwells, lend, opens, cattle, snowy, flowery, dusky, darken, flare