THE SUNSET
Red, blue and purple tangled in with gold;
'Tis thus in colors the Day's life is told,
As't nears its close, 'ere Twilight's dusky bars
Are nailed in place by Night's close-driven stars.
'Tis thus in colors the Day's life is told,
As't nears its close, 'ere Twilight's dusky bars
Are nailed in place by Night's close-driven stars.
The crimson tells its tale—without my word—
Of bleeding hearts whose moans the Day has heard;
The blue, of Hope, which from Grief's font, doth rise
In more transplendent life toward the skies.
Of bleeding hearts whose moans the Day has heard;
The blue, of Hope, which from Grief's font, doth rise
In more transplendent life toward the skies.
The purple, Earth's ambitious ones bespeaks,
As't proudly wraps from sight the mountain-peaks
Its tint has softly touched, and yet ascends
Till all the gathered glory with it blends!
As't proudly wraps from sight the mountain-peaks
Its tint has softly touched, and yet ascends
Till all the gathered glory with it blends!
Then—o'er a grand color-confusion—spreads
A golden glow which mantles them, and sheds
(As gauzy garment only hides to show!)
Their mingled brightness on the Earth below!
A golden glow which mantles them, and sheds
(As gauzy garment only hides to show!)
Their mingled brightness on the Earth below!
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