I will go out and meet the evening hours 
And greet them one by one as friend greets friend, 
Where many a tall poplar summit towers 
On summit, shrines of quietness that send 
Their silence through the blue air like a wreath 
Of sacrificial flame unwavering 
In the deep evening stillness, when no breath 
Sets the faint tendrils floating on light wing 
Over the long dim fields mist-islanded.
I will go out and meet them one by one,
And learn the things old times have left unsaid,
And read the secrets of an age long gone,
And out of twilight and the darkening plain
Build up all that old quiet world again.