How fine has the day been! how bright was the sun,
How lovely and joyful the course that he run!
Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun,
And there followed some droppings of rain:
But now the fair traveller's come to the west,
His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best;
He paints the skies gay as he sinks to his rest,
And foretells a bright rising again.
You May Also Like / View all maxioms
The sacred lamp of day
Now dipt in western clouds his parting day.
The sacred lamp of day
Now dipt in western clouds his parting day.
Forming and breaking in the sky,
I fancy all shapes are there;
Temple, mountain, monument, spire;
read more
Forming and breaking in the sky,
I fancy all shapes are there;
Temple, mountain, monument, spire;
Ships rigged out with sails of fire,
And blown by the evening air.
The lonely sunsets flare forlorn
Down valleys dreadly desolate;
The lonely mountains soar in scorn
read more
The lonely sunsets flare forlorn
Down valleys dreadly desolate;
The lonely mountains soar in scorn
As still as death, as stern as fate.
When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand;
read more
When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand;
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?
Untimely storms makes men expect a dearth.
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.
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.
The death-bed of a day, how beautiful!
The death-bed of a day, how beautiful!
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.
Oft did I wonder why the setting sun
Should look upon us with a blushing face:
Is't read more
Oft did I wonder why the setting sun
Should look upon us with a blushing face:
Is't not for shame of what he hath seen done,
Whilst in our hemisphere he ran his race?
