Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors
Veiled the light of his face, like the read more

Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors
Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from
Sinai.

Now in his Palace of the West,
Sinking to slumber, the bright Day,
Like a tired monarch read more

Now in his Palace of the West,
Sinking to slumber, the bright Day,
Like a tired monarch fann'd to rest,
'Mid the cool airs of Evening lay;
While round his couch's golden rim
The gaudy clouds, like courtiers, crept--
Struggling each other's light to dim,
And catch his last smile e'er he slept.

See! he sinks
Without a word; and his ensanguined bier
Is vacant in the west, while far read more

See! he sinks
Without a word; and his ensanguined bier
Is vacant in the west, while far and near
Behold! each coward shadow eastward shrinks,
Thou dost not strive, O sun, nor dost thou cry
Amid thy cloud-built streets.
- Rev. Frederick William Faber,

It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded
Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill,
read more

It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded
Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill,
Which then seems as if the whole earth is bounded,
Circling all nature, hush'd, and dim, and still,
With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded
On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill
Upon the other, and the rosy sky
With one star sparkling through it like an eye.

The setting sun, and music at the close,
As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,
read more

The setting sun, and music at the close,
As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,
Writ in remembrance more than things long past.

When clouds are seen wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall then winter is at hand.

When clouds are seen wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall then winter is at hand.

Long on the wave reflected lustres play.

Long on the wave reflected lustres play.

Methought little space 'tween those hills intervened,
But nearer,--more lofty,--more shaggy they seemed.
The clouds o'er their read more

Methought little space 'tween those hills intervened,
But nearer,--more lofty,--more shaggy they seemed.
The clouds o'er their summits they calmly did rest,
And hung on the ether's invisible breast;
Than the vapours of earth they seemed purer, more bright,--
Oh! could they be clouds? 'Twas the necklace of night.

The death-bed of a day, how beautiful!

The death-bed of a day, how beautiful!