by James Fenimore Cooper, Jr. (1892 - 1918)

Language: English 
At the quiet close of day,
Gently yet the willows sway;
When the sunset light is low,
Lingers still the afterglow;
Beauty tarries loth to die,
Every lightest fantasy
Lovelier grows in memory,
Where the truer beauties lie.

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This text was added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.
Line count: 8
Word count: 38