Poem about a sunset.
| A Breath of Fire
Ai! the trees proud standing,
a breeze like ship that silent landing,
sends beams of flame sifting through the mighty limbs
light then through the needles swims
as the green giants sit in conclave mourning,
freshets crimson down go shorning,
then gentle and soft comes the golden ship;
the sun's crimson ridges softly slip
over the land that silent lies
beneath the dome of scarlet skies.
Ah! there falling strong the sun
with glory and with praises hung
by men and chieftens great and small
by both men and warriors tall.
It's glory great points to the King,
and all it's mighty song does ring
unto His head with glory spread
and then both men and angels sing.
Ah! great the majesty of skies enfurled,
and gentle it's song about the world,
that speaks of glory and of burning bright:
a fragrance and a holy light.