This sunlit hour where golden light Doth bathe the hills and skies; Such beauty born of day and night, Calls forth my soul to rise. The waning dreams that fade in trails, Of twilight’s whispered calm, Press softly on till silence sails, And every breath is balm. The lilt of nature, wild and free, Enfolds this sacred space; As if to launch eternity In every sunlit trace.

• Sarah Orne Jewett