The Poetry of Real Life | ||
179
A SUNSET THOUGHT, AT HAMPTON COURT.
Those clouds, that, gilded by the setting sun,Above the towers of Hampton-palace rest,
And all the airy outline soft invest
With richest folds of golden tissue spun,
In the loom of the elements, which none
Could equal, though wrought for a monarch's vest:
With trails of glory hang upon the west,
As on the day when Wolsey's race was run!
They look like robes of State, late thrown aside,
By some great soul retired from the scene
Of all its majesty and full-blown pride,
To witness for the splendors that have been.
But he, whose spirit did o'er all preside,
Who wore them, though still felt, is no more seen!
The Poetry of Real Life | ||