And slowly to the west, in ebon gloom,
Upbearing in his lifted hands on high
The scroll of destiny—of life and doom—
The night-watch passëd by.
But ere he turned his step from earth away
I gazed upon his countenance again,
And, lo! I thought upon his brow there lay
A shadow as of pain.
But he, the brother-angel of the day,
Bore on his breast the beaming star of hope,