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.CLOUDS AT SUNSET. |
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Friends are ill— Hope sees health's returning smile, Speaks of days when at the board
Or the fireside we shall meet them— When, to health and friends restored,
We shall joy to see and greet them.
Boding Fear Sees them on the sable bier; Beholds them clad in garments white,
Hears the fearful dirge-note swelling, Sees them borne beyond our sight,
To their low and silent dwelling.
Hope and Fear,
Strangely are ye blended here—
Here in this sad world of ours,
Where joy and sorrow meet together—
Here where oft a storm-cloud lowers
In the brightest, sunniest weather, s.
CLOUDS AT SUNSET.
The sun in his splendour is sinking away Far down in the rose-coloured west;
The black clouds, that darken'd the sky through the day, Lie cradled in beautiful rest. |
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