 | A book of Bristol sonnets |  |
67
SUNSET AT ABBOT'S LEIGH.
Men, careless, said it was the setting sun!The sun was hid, the waves were shuddering gold,
The very mountains fainted to behold,
And Avon's pale white waters ceased to run!
Was Nature truer prophet she should shun
That bright terrific death-sign? man, less bold,
By yonder black-beaked cape, to sit and fold
Tame arms, and loll his heart against the gun?
Our nation's life is setting! Then I turned;
Great ships stood bravely up the Avon's tide;
The waters slept where that great terror died;
And on the mountain stars of promise burned;
While man, and beast, and woodland blessed the night,
Tired with a tiresome day, and waited for the light.
| A book of Bristol sonnets | |