Poems (Cromwell)/Dusk

For works with similar titles, see Dusk.
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DUSK
As flowers at dusk their choicest perfumes hold, Some hearts hoard beauty when the body's old: I see an age-bent woman lead the herd To pasture, with no need of guiding word.
While the dull beasts in the tall grasses browse, Inside her soul the earth's enchantments drowse; The needles pause between her wasted hands, For light is always mellow where she stands.
No motion marks her life's harmonious dream It is a part of Nature's quiet theme. Each day renews the uneventful past, Although her spirit nears a change at last.
From the grey threshold of her silent home One night, her spirit, kin to evening's shade, Will float away from crevices life made, Like seaweed from a cliff into white foam.
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