The End of the Day

The day is done and every hour is spent

And now it lies a-dying in the west,

Yet with what wonder those last moments blest

Crown all with the chaste kiss of sweet content;

For nature's minstrels sing a carol pent

With the soft music of the spheres suppressed

In one great strain — the while upon night's breast

The dying day sinks down in languishment.

And in those last faint breaths as‘ twere in sooth

The halo of some saint, a glowing light

Of purest gold streams through the darkened sky,

A light more wondrous than the dawn of youth —

For‘ tis a flame cleft out the veil of night

From that eternal dawn that ne'er can die!