DAWN
I HAVE beheld above the wooded hill
Thy tender loveliness, O Morning, break;
Beheld the solemn gladness thou dost spill
On eyes not yet awake.
But why recall unto the painful day
Wild passions sleeping like oblivious kings?
The broad day comes and thou dost speed away
Westward on swift wide wings!
SUNSET
I HAVE seen death in many a varied guise,
Cruel and tender, rude and beautiful,
Looking through windows in a young child’s eyes,
Stealing as soft as shadows in a pool,
Falling a sudden arrow of dismay,
Blown on a bugle with an iron note:
The slow and gentle progress of decay,
The taking of a strong man by the throat.
I have seen flowers wither and the leaf
Of lusty Summer burn to hectic red.
But ah! that splendid death untouched by grief:
The sun with glad and golden-visaged head
Superbly standing on his deadly pyre,
And sinking in a sea of jewelled fire!