Classic Poem

The twilight gathers fair and fine
Above the dimpling stream;
The rosy colors shift and shine,
And all the shadowy world doth seem
The picture of some happy dream.

Too soon, from darkening tide and shore,
The vision melts away:
To paint the heavenly spaces o'er
No amethystine hues delay,
Nor tender rose nor sapphire stay.

Yet not a tint will ever fade
From the heaven where once it shone:
Every sweet color there inlaid
Perpetual has grown
Since, in the trembling light, I made
You, love, my own my own.