Twilight.
By John Clare
The setting Sun withdraws his yellow light, A gloomy staining shadows over all, While the brown beetle, trumpeter of Night, Proclaims his entrance with a droning call. How pleasant now, where slanting hazels fall Thick, o'er the woodland stile, to muse and lean; To pluck a woodbine from the shade withal, And take short snatches o'er the moisten'd scene; While deep and deeper shadows intervene, And leave fond Fancy moulding to her will The cots, and groves, and trees so dimly seen, That die away more undiscerned still; Bringing a sooty curtain o'er the sight, And calmness in the bosom still as night.
AI analysis available. Enable JavaScript to interact.
About this line
"The setting Sun withdraws his yellow light,..."
John Clare's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Twilight."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...