Father, mother, and daughter one—
And gazed, as they oft had gazed before,
At the downward glide of the western sun.
The rays of his never-jealous light
Made even the cloud that dimmed him bright;
And lower he bent, and kissed, as he stood,
The lips of the distant blue-eyed wood.
And just as the tired sun bowed his head,
The sun-browned farmer sighed, and said:
And so you'll soon be goin' away,