Classic Poem

Homeward , before the pinions of the Night
Swoop on my path. Behold! yon westering Sun
Flushes the heavens with many-coloured light,
A gorgeous signal that the day is done.
Piled in stupendous masses, many a change,
Wondrous and beautiful, the clouds assume, —
Titanic structures, ever new and strange,
With splendours streaming through their cloven gloom.
Now they are moulded into mountains, rent
And burning to their centres; now they break,
And float apart, like silent ships that seek
Blest isles amid the ethereal element;
Whilst the broad Sun pours forth his latest beams, —
Gently withdraws, and leaves me to my dreams.

The orb is gone, yet on the earth and sky
Lingers some lovely shape, some vestige fair:
Light fleeces, faintly blushing, calmly lie
Like beds of roses in the middle air.
Meanwhile, my soul is softened, and subdued
Into a quiet tenderness of thought;
Feeling, imagination are imbued
With things that Nature to my gaze hath brought
My Home receives me; at the chimney-side,
Consoled, invigorated, frame and mind
Better for action nerved and purified —
I sit me down, to worldly cares resigned;
Review, with something like a calm content,
The day which has not been unprofitably spent!