Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Sunset
Sunset.
It is the hour when winds and waves
Scarce heave one sigh around their caves;
It is the hour to musing sweet,
When sun, and sea, in glory meet.
The sinking orb seems in his flight
Pausing, to bid the world good-night;
No funeral waters o'er him swell,
And peal afar his parting knell;
But though he's gone beneath the sea,
A pensive glow like memory,
That beauteous light of suns long set,
In softened radiance lingers yet.
Scarce heave one sigh around their caves;
It is the hour to musing sweet,
When sun, and sea, in glory meet.
The sinking orb seems in his flight
Pausing, to bid the world good-night;
No funeral waters o'er him swell,
And peal afar his parting knell;
But though he's gone beneath the sea,
A pensive glow like memory,
That beauteous light of suns long set,
In softened radiance lingers yet.