In the cool of the evening, when the low sweet whispers waken,
When the laborers turn them homeward, and the weary have their will,
When the censers of the roses o'er the forest aisles are shaken,
Is it but the wind that cometh o'er...
Children are dumb to say how hot the day is,
How hot the scent is of the summer rose,
How dreadful the black wastes of evening sky,
How dreadful the tall soldiers drumming by
O cool is the valley now And there, love, will we go For many a choir is singing now Where Love did sometime go
And hear you not the thrushes calling,
Calling us away
O cool and pleasant is the valley And there, love, will we stay
I thought I heard Him calling
Did you hear A sound, a little sound
My curious ear Is dinned with flying noises, and the tree Goes — whisper, whisper, whisper silently Till all its whispers spread into the sound Of a dull roar
Lie cl...
The Pool Players.
Seven at the Golden Shovel.
We real cool. We
Left school. We