(20 March 1865 - 26 September 1958 / Leeds, England)

poet Arthur Bayldon
What do you think this poem is about?

Sunset

The weary wind is slumbering on the wing:
Leaping from out meek twilight's purpling blue
Burns the proud star of eve as though it knew
It was the big king jewel quivering
On the black turban of advancing night.
In the dim west the soldiers of the sun
Strike all their royal colours one by one,
Reluctantly surrender every height.

Submitted: Saturday, January 04, 2003


Read poems about / on: star, wind, sun, sunset, night, soldier

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