GREY the sky, and growing dimmer,
And the twilight lulls the sea ;
Half in vagueness, half in glimmer,
Nature shrouds her mystery.

What have all the hours been spent for ?
Why the on and on of things ?
Why eternity's procession
Of the days and evenings ?

Hours of sunshine, hours of gloaming,
Wing their unexplaining flight,
With a measured punctuation
Of unconsciousness, at night.

Just at sunset was translucence,
When the west was all aflame ;
So I asked the sea a question,
And an answer nearly came.

Is there nothing but Occurrence ?
Though each detail seem an Act,
Is that whole we deem so pregnant
But unemphasizèd Fact ?

Or, when dusk is in the hollows
Of the hill-side and the wave,
Are things just so much in earnest
That they cannot but be grave ?

Nay, the lesson of the Twilight
Is as simple as 'tis deep ;
Acquiescence, acquiescence,
And the coming on of sleep.