All that long day of bitter pain
The sun shone down the hill,
Above whose crest continually,
The clouds pushed, white and still.

But when the dove of twilight came,
With murmurs soft and deep,
To gather in her suffering ones
And brood them all to sleep,

Oh, then I dreamed I was a child
Upon my sister’s breast,
Without a longing or desire
Save for that sheltered rest.

Oh, was it but a feverish dream
Beneath the twilight’s wing,
Or did I feel her tender arms,
And did I hear her sing,

As in the old and innocent years,
Hovered by twilight’s dove,
She used to sit and sing to me
The plaintive song I love:

“Wave, willow; murmur, waters;
Gentle sunbeams, smile;
Earthly music cannot waken
Lovely Annie Lisle.”