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Archibald Lampman - The Bird and the Hour
Work rating: Low

The sun looks over a little hill
And floods the valley with gold—
A torrent of gold;
And the hither field is green and still;
Beyond it a cloud outrolled,
Is glowing molten and bright;
And soon the hill, and the valley and all,
With a quiet fall,
Shall be gathered into the night.
And yet a moment more,
Out of the silent wood,
As if from the closing door
Of another world and another lovelier mood,
Hear`st thou the hermit pour—
So sweet! so magical!—
His golden music, ghostly beautiful.
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