The Mingling of the Lights

It is evening and the westward Sun bids goodbye
Colouring the sky with spreading red
Brilliant orange and blue fill the darkening sky
As the day speeds in glory to its death
Dawn and dusk the times of death
Twice in a day and night they come
For days end and night's last breath
Are known by these names to some
At both these times the most wondrous sights
Of this world and the next  are seen
For the time of the Mingling of the Lights
Is the time of what is and what has been
One such hour on a darkening eve
I beheld two beautiful trees
Taller than all and fairer than I could believe
They swayed gently in the breeze
One was green and of golden sheen
With trunk of brown-golden wood
The other sparkled with a silver sheen
And both mighty and tall they stood
Could it be that beholden to me
Were the Ancient trees of old?
Could it be in my fantasy
I saw the trees of silver and gold?
As soon as it came, the vision went
Replaced by the dust-scored day
But for a moment the dusty present was rent
And in my sight fair visions stay'd.