SLAP HAPPY LARRY

A MIDLAND TWILIGHT

The cloud-plumed afternoon has flown along the household street,
Leaf-shadows flicker. Freshly strown, the sprays whir. Far and fleet,
Hushed, furtive footsteps dodge and creep, and hunting voices call, 
"I spy," and "One, two, three for you," around the street's still hall.
The little winds of twilight blow. Upon the hop-scotch chaclk,
Home-turning footsteps come and go along the dappled walk.
The little winds of twilight blow closed flower and full-stirred tree;
And far and near a singing voice cries, "All sorts out in free!"
The cloud-plumed afternoon has flown, slow-winging, green and bright;
And all the dreams her hours have known turn with her toward the night --
Beyond that first cool snowdrop star above the roof-rimmed way.
Home and the night -- profound for me, and happy their wide grace
Thrills through the wind, the full-stirred tree, fleet game and white-starred space.
Deep by their ways may my soul live, as by her halidome,
Through all her cloud-plumed day-time hours: and when to my great home,
Home and the night, at last I come, so may it be for me:
Peace; in my heart, a fresh voice singing. "All sorts out in free."

by Edith Wyatt
(McClures Magazine 1909)

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