Winter Evening

  To-night the very horses springing by

  Toss gold from whitened nostrils. In a dream

  The streets that narrow to the westward gleam

  Like rows of golden palaces; and high

  From all the crowded chimneys tower and die

  A thousand aureoles. Down in the west

  The brimming plains beneath the sunset rest,

  One burning sea of gold. Soon, soon shall fly

  The glorious vision, and the hours shall feel

  A mightier master; soon from height to height,

  With silence and the sharp unpitying stars,

  Stern creeping frosts, and winds that touch like steel,

  Out of the depth beyond the eastern bars,

  Glittering and still shall come the awful night.

Composition date is unknown - the above date represents the first publication date.Form: Sonnet: abbaaccadefdfe