Twilight in the Alps

I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair
And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells
To lead the cattle forth. A thousand bells
Go chiming after her across the fair
And flowery uplands, while the rosy flare
Of sunset on the snowy mountain dwells,
And valleys darken, and the drowsy spells
Of peace are woven through the purple air.

Dear is the magic of this hour: she seems
To walk before the dark by falling rills,
And lend a sweeter song to hidden streams;
She opens all the doors of night, and fills
With moving bells the music of my dreams,
That wander far among the sleeping hills.

Gstaad, August, 1909.

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Chicago: Henry Van Dyke, "Twilight in the Alps," The White Bees, ed. Keil, Heinrich, 1822-1894 and trans. Seaton, R. C. in The White Bees (New York: George E. Wood, 1850), Original Sources, accessed April 26, 2018, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=DAD3U6DQ6TMKKEA.

MLA: Dyke, Henry Van. "Twilight in the Alps." The White Bees, edited by Keil, Heinrich, 1822-1894, and translated by Seaton, R. C., in The White Bees, New York, George E. Wood, 1850, Original Sources. 26 Apr. 2018. www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=DAD3U6DQ6TMKKEA.

Harvard: Dyke, HV, 'Twilight in the Alps' in The White Bees, ed. and trans. . cited in 1850, The White Bees, George E. Wood, New York. Original Sources, retrieved 26 April 2018, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=DAD3U6DQ6TMKKEA.