Sunset.

A poem by John Hartley

Last eve the sun went down
Like a globe of glorious fire;
Into a sea of gold
I watched the orb expire.
It seemed the fitting end
For the brightness it had shed,
And the cloudlets he had kissed
Long lingered over head.

All vegetation drooped,
As if with pleasure faint:
The lily closed its cup
To guard 'gainst storm and taint.
The cool refreshing dew
Fell softly to the earth,
All lovely things to cheer,
And call more beauties forth.

And as I sat and thought
On Nature's wond'rous plan,
I felt with some regret,
How small a thing is man.
However bright he be,
His efforts are confined,
Yet maybe, if he will,
Leave some rich fruits behind.


The sun that kissed the flowers,
And made the earth look gay,
Was culling, through the hours,
Rich treasures on his way.
And when the day was dead,
His stored up riches fell,
And to the moon arose
Incense from hill and dell.

And when our span of life
Is ended, will it be
Through such a glorious death
We greet Eternity?
What have we said or done
In all the long years passed!
And may not such as me,
Forgotten, die at last?