Short Poems (Classic Reprint)
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Excerpt from Short Poems
Sunset.
Westward, as the sun went down
Through clouds of radiant gold,
I turned from the busy town
To think of days of old.
How bright, how calm the roseate air,
Transforming mists from clay,
Oh, how the fancy flies up there
To feel eternal day!
If floating vapours thus can be
So gorgeous and so grand,
What must it prove for those who see
The scene where angels stand?
What must it prove for those we kney
On earth so fond and dear,
Translated now to have the view
Of all that glory near?
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