Sun



How glorious doth the Sun
Sink low at end of day,
In crimson rob-ed splendor borne
Past dark horizon’s shade.

How brightly did he shine
At midday’s zenith tall;
The earth below, the fields of kine,
Caught up in brilliance, all.

Then westward on he marched
To eventide, so slow;
The end of day is coming, hark!
The darkness, how it grows.

Yet morning soon will come
Again, bathed in his glow;
The land will wake, and fresh and warm 
Shall greet the dawn anew.



Photo taken at Mount Pleasant, SC

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