Two Songs , opus 100

Now the mountaintop all purple
Rises thro' a mist of silver,
While the moon, a disc of cobwebs,
Shining in the pallid heavens,
Ghostlike thro' the evening shadows.
 
Now the lofty eucalyptus
Stretches forth its chalky branches
Toward the lovely, lustred heavens,
While the drowsy westwind sighing
Sings the theme of lamentation.

Dun grows the sky;
The cloudrack dark
In the west hangs low.
 
The wind moans by;
The bare trees ply their futile weaving
Sad and slow;
But o'er the east
The grim clouds part
A fleece of white,
A space of blue
Aloft, afar,
There's a single star,
Like the kindness of God
Shining thro'.