 | The Burdens of Belief and Other Poems |  |
106
A SUNSET SKY
Sometimes to us in looking upA wondrous blue is given,
So soft, so calm, divinely pure,
It seems the gate of heaven.
The clouds that gather in the sky
And pass across its face
Are bathed in one ethereal hue,
As of unfathomed space.
And yet they tell us 'tis the dust
Of this poor world of ours
That, floating in the deeps beyond,
So crowns our evening hours.
'Tis well to know it: it may be
Fit emblem to our sight
How earthly things, when lifted hence,
Can be dissolved in light.
Transforming radiance! Stay with us.
Sad skies are overhead;
For mournful days and ‘dust to dust’
Have left us with the dead.
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