The Washington herald., 1914-06-22
The June Twilight.
ny EMORY j. HAYNES.

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"The day is dying in the West" But the twilight
is suggestive of life Real living unvexed by care
and labor is in every softened hour of tinted light
Even the fading of the light is pleasing for sug-
gests repose The SUM- cutting notch in the purple
horizon mountain almost laughs in the last beams it
sends across the valley In charming struggle with
the mountain ridge the exalts and by his latest
blink grows full of cheer.
How straight as arrows the golden rays, now
visible as never at high noon, dart toward The
radiation is in every direction, and not too fierce
light for the eye One seems to get acquainted with
the mighty sun at twilight.
And one finds himself at twilight All the day
long has been looking for the other man and
business with him Now business is with ones self
To ones self, breathe and live for ones self
The modified tints that show things show them at a
distance and not concerning us. We are spectators
of the world not workers. The wave of toll has
passed us and is now beginning fret Far Eastern
shores.
The June twilight is so very long that musing has
time, and reveries and memories. 1t is nearly 9
O'Clock and not too dark to follow the path across
the fields. If only it might be in December the
precious light of day remaining And then the thought
that so short span separates from the twilight of
O'Clock in the morning. Really these twilights have
become true, There shall be no night there"
Now the lawns become literal velvet Twilight is
the perfection of setting for lawns Shrubbery also
banks its green in the becoming attitude, quite
making amends for the fading of flowers. The trees
assume a solemnity that is imposing, though half
lights not favorable, the whole, to trees
The brook gets lost except that its whisper
the stones tells that is still there Ponds however
are magnificent at twilight. Generally the surface
OF the meadow pond is like mirror for the winds
have died down. Then the sky full of stars itself
In the reflection the stars more visible by far than
in the direct upward gaze June's moon is dupli-
Gated with planet in its crescent Indeed, in place
Of pond to be looking down into the
depths of "the armament beneath"
A lake and the sea- darIing in the deep shadows.
not restful at twilight There is something
homeless and dcfenseess in their sweep out of
sight in the oncomng night. But the fond old mill
pond above the singing dam-that is never beau
tifu as when studded with thousand evening stars.
The vagrant twilight perfumes are abroad. Early
dews have power release the sweet smells of
flowers and moved fields The new mown grass of
June cannot be cured in day but is left on the
ground in cocks, from which the sweet aroma fills
farmer, and this, the neghbors. have been cutting
this lot and that and it is high time you were also
cutting that and this of your fields.
Forests send out pungent frankincense to the de-
parting god of day. rcdocnce that is mixture of
all sorts of pleasing odors continues till the darkness
if fairly on and often longer into the night Through
the open windows il comes to awaken you, but not
as the alarm of the smell of smoke awakens in
the winter. Did YOU ever think the power of the
OF smell to out of sleep?
The twilight is emotional Lovers use it for ap
pointed trysts. Music befts it. Poets inspired
by it Many is the evening meditation of the aged,
What picture she was, in mothers closing years,
seated by the westward gazing window. her spec
tacles on the open page Of the book she loved her
eyes fixed upon the glories OF the sky as if there
appeared a gateway which she was soon to enter.
Such beauty was loaned her features the radiance
effacing her palor. Such faiths unspeakahe. She
sat silent but with thoughts OF peace The twilight
was to her an altar.