The Sundowner. Poem by Robert Crawford
The Sundowner.
So He will at the last, too, gather all,
As in the bush a traveller for his fire
Sticks and dry leaves, as eerie the light fades;
Till from those sticks and leaves there comes a flame,
Beside which in a weird infinity
The man will sit and gather lonely thoughts.
So He will at the last, too, gather all,
The great Sundowner in a painless sphere.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/7/2026 6:38:48 PM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
