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153
THE SUNSET WINTER.
Wearing Aurora's robe, night after night,Some radiant spirit rules the western sky,
Drowning the sun-tints with such rich supply
Of colours weaved of unremembered light,
That it would seem the Master-painter's might
Had wrought anew His palette there on high,
To tell the tired world rainbows shall not die,
Which first His pledge of promise did indite.
Forged newly like a steel-blue scimitar,
The crescent Moon shines keener than of old,
And, as the drawn sword of one armed for war,
Marshals those hosts of crimson, green, and gold,
Till underneath the quiet Evening Star
The great review pales out into the cold.
Eastbourne, November-December, 1883.
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