Classic Poem

When at the close of day, the fading light
Sinks into darkness, and the last faint gleams.
Of the red sun depart, and pale moonbeams
Shine through the scattered clouds; then, on my sight
Arise fair phantom-shapes, more coldly bright
Than a broad snowfield in the starlight seems.
And in the West the shadowy land of Dreams
Glimmers thro' the chill darkness of the night.

So in my heart, when joy's fair golden sun
Has set forever, oftentimes arise
The phantom-shapes of hopes, and loves long gone,
And I sit mourning, when the day is done;
Mourning, yet hoping that the eastern skies
Will some time shine with the pale light of dawn.