Passing Brightness Poem by John William Inchbold

The sun's full orb dipped in the quiet sea
With tints more deeply dyed than loom of Tyre,
Arrayed in clouds of glory gorgeously,
And ere he sank I felt his ray of fire,
Wherewith illumined seemed life's cloudy ways;
But looking east and north and south I saw
The clouds were touched with those same fiery rays
Which soon became cold-grey and pale, and raw,
When all illusions vanished from my way;
I knew ten years had passed since first we met,
Perhaps another ten ere meet we may,
Ten years of this world's littleness and fret,
But sweetened with the faith thou know'st so well,
Which passes not be sure, with passing bell.