Wander.

Goubitz, Evening at Castricum, 1938

Dark hills against a hollow crocus sky

Scarfed with its crimson pennons, and below 

The dome of sunset long, hushed valleys lie

Cradling the twilight, where the lone winds blow 

And wake among the harps of leafless trees 

Fantastic runes and mournful melodies. 

The chilly purple air is threaded through

With silver from the rising moon afar, 

And from a gulf of clear, unfathomed blue

In the southwest glimmers a great gold star 

Above the darkening druid glens of fir 

Where beckoning boughs and elfin voices stir. 

And so I wander through the shadows still,

And look and listen with a rapt delight, 

Pausing again and yet again at will

To drink the elusive beauty of the night, 

Until my soul is filled, as some deep cup, 

That with divine enchantment is brimmed up. 

Lucy Maud Montgomery