In The First Pale Flush Of Even Poem by Philip Henry Savage

In the first pale flush of even
When the sun is hardly down,
Ere the stars are in the heaven,
Ere the shadows turn to brown;

When the eastern sky is darkened
And the zenith still is blue,
I have stood and dimly hearkened
To the falling of the dew.

I have stood within the hollow
By low, rolling hummocks made,
Close beside a sloping fallow
In the bottom of a glade,

While the west was slowly dying;
And the dark east followed fast,
Swarming over, swiftly flying
Till the world was overcast,

Downward, past the dim horizon
Till the valley filled with night,
And the cool earth-whisper rising,
Filled me with a wild delight!

Let the day go by to even.
Hark! the distant vespers' toll.
When the sun is set in heaven
It is sunrise in the soul.