Evening Mood

A poem by Maurice Henry Hewlett

Late, when the sun was smouldering down the west,
She took my arm and laid her cheek to me;
The fainting twilight held her, and I guess'd
All she would tell, but could not let me see--
Wonder and joy, the rising of her breast,
And confidence, and still expectancy.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Evening Mood' by Maurice Henry Hewlett

comments powered by Disqus