From upland slopes I see the cows file by,
  Lowing, great-chested, down the homeward trail,
  By dusking fields and meadows shining pale
With moon-tipped dandelions; flickering high,
A peevish night-hawk in the western sky
  Beats up into the lucent solitudes,
  Or drops with griding wing; the stilly woods
Grow dark and deep, and gloom mysteriously.
Cool night-winds creep and whisper in mine ear;
  The homely cricket gossips at my feet;
  From far-off pools and wastes of reeds I hear
With ebb and change the chanting frogs break sweet
  In full Pandean chorus; one by one
Shine out the stars, and the great night comes on.

– Archibald Lampman, 19th century


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