The crickets sang

The Crickets sang
And set the Sun
And Workmen finished one by one
Their Seam the Day opon -

The Bee had perished from the Scene
And distant as an Order done
And doubtful as Report opon
The Multitudes of Noon -

The low Grass loaded with the Dew
The Twilight leaned as Strangers do
With Hat in Hand, polite and new
To stay as if, or go -

A Vastness, as a Neighbor, came -
A Wisdom without Face or Name -
A Peace, as Hemispheres at Home
And so, the Night became -