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Updated: April 30, 2025
The wooded mountains changed fast from green to purple, from purple to dark gray; and almost before Mercy had comprehended the beauty of the region, it was lost from her sight, veiled in the twilight's pale, indistinguishable tints. Her mother was fast asleep in her seat.
However, I think you will all be very good and won't require any rocking to get to sleep." This made them laugh. It was now half-past eight o'clock, and the night had slowly covered the country-side. The hills alone retained a vague trace of the twilight's farewell, whilst a dense sheet of darkness blotted out all the low ground.
At twilight's hour might she be seen, unscared by the truant's stone, repairing to the placid pool skimming over its glassy surface, in rapid circle and with humid wing and returning in triumph, bearing wherewithal to build her nest. Summer too went by; and as the leaves of Autumn rustled at his feet, Delme started, as he felt that the sting and poignancy of his grief was gone.
Soft and sacred will we name thee, Whosoe'er the sire that claim thee Whether old Auster's dusky child, Or the loud son of Eurus wild; Or his who o'er the darkling deeps, From the bleak North, in tempest sweeps; Still shalt thou seem as dear to us As flowery-crowned Zephyrus, When, through twilight's starry dew, Trembling, he hastes his nymph to woo.
Nothing eatable grew on either ground or tree in the month of March. Yes, where was he to find food, and who would give him shelter, and who would fix his bed, and who would protect him from the wild beasts? For now the sun was away and frost came from the lake, and darkness sank down from heaven, and terror stole forward on the twilight's trail, and in the forest it began to patter and rustle.
This parenthetical deviation is the fruit of my deep reflections concerning this early period of my development; it is the web which the deft fingers of my memory have woven around many a quiet reverie; the substance of many a fire side cogitation, the phantoms of many a twilight's dreaming.
"O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming, Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watch'd were so gallantly streaming? And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
"A sweet, noble life," says a recent writer, "was that of the author of our favorite national hymn a life of ideal refinement, piety, scholarly gentleness. Little did he think that his voice would be the storm song, the victor shout, of conquering America to resound down and down the ages!" Oh! say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
So beautiful it is I never saw So great a beauty on these English fields Touched, by the twilight's coming, into awe, Ripe to the soul and rich with summer's yields. The fields are inhabited with the ghosts of ploughmen of old who gave themselves for England, even as the faithful farmers now leave scenes inexpressibly dear.
His part was to give us our signal. At the first peal the windows of every Union home blazed with light. The doors were flung wide open, and a song one song rose on the cool still night. O say, can you see by the dawn's early light What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?
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