And when he once more skirts the sky—
Down gliding in the west—
Observe the tim’rous clouds which fly,
Carnation’d, to the east:—
O! watch the gorgeous king of day,
Descending, gone from view * * *
Ah! who shall live to rise, and pray,
As he comes round anew?—
And that he will; but who shall see
The god as round he rolls?—