Sunset The sun is sinking in the west, As if in silence all its rest, To crown the splendor of the day With rapture bright and fearless play.

Upon the breezes, tossed in cheer, Runs all the murmurs of the year, And night unfolds her starry cloak As day releases every yoke.

So, thus, my heart will seek to find The beauty knitted to my mind— The treasures lost in shadows grim, In dusk’s embrace just made for him.

• Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr