Softly the first step of twilight
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Falls on the darkening dial,
One by one kindle the lights
Noises are hushed in the courtyard,
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The busy day is departing,
Children are called from their games,—
Herds from their grazing.
And from the deep-shadowed angles
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Comes the soft murmur of lovers,
Then through the quiet of dusk
From the hushed street, through the portal,
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Where soon my lover will enter,
Comes the pure strain of a flute