I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair
And dewy feet, along the Alpine dellsTo 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.
Twilight in the Alps
Henry van Dyke