Nightfall.

—Alexander Posey.

AS evening splendors fade

From yonder sky afar,

The Night pins on her dark

Robe with a large bright star,

And the new moon hangs like

A high-thrown scimitar.

Vague in the mystic room

This side the paling west,

The Tulledegas* loom

In an eternal rest,

And one by one the lamps are lit

In the dome of the Infinite.

 

*Creek (Muscogee): Tulle—line, Dega—border. Borderline, a range of hills lying along the Oktahutchee, west of the poet’s home.

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