Evening Music Poem by Martin TURNER

Here comes the moment of the shimmering hour
When praise like incense trembles from each leaf.
The evening air is redolent with grief
And waltzes gush with melancholic power.

When praise like incense trembles from each leaf,
Only the notes of violins are sour
And waltzes gush with melancholic power;
The sky is vast with beauty and with grief.

Only the notes of violins are sour;
Each heart avoids its pit of unbelief.
The sky is vast with beauty and with grief;
The sun's blood hazes in a chilly shower.

Each heart avoids its pit of unbelief,
Gathering its flecks of light into a bower;
The sun's blood hazes in a chilly shower -
Only your shining image brings relief!