Sunset

Some days die, as some men,
Softly and peacefully, and then
Others with pain-wracked twisted forms
Go to their graves 'mid gales and storms,
And knowing only skies of gray
And the wind's weird wail they pass away.

I watched the death of yesterday.
Golden the couch on which it lay.
Imperial purple edged a cloud
As if it were a monarch's shroud,
And there was neither pain nor fright
To mar the silence of the night.

Beauty and glory watched beside
The old day's bed until it died.
Troops robed in scarlet seemed to stay
To bear the noble corpse away,
Then hooded dusk with footsteps slow
Lighted night's candles, row by row.

Lord, for my loved ones, this I pray:
Sweet be the sunset of their day!
May beauty grace their lives, and when
Thou call'st their spirits home again
May trails of glory round them sweep
As silently they fall asleep.