Be inspired by these poems about the sunset. The sun going doing creates a time of breathtaking and spectacular skies! Read the poet's thoughts on these amazing paintings in the sky. The colors and the beauty of the sky are so
creative that it is worth watching the sky change as the sun sets.
Insiring words by Kristen Butler about sunsets: "Sunsets are proof that no matter what happens, every day can end beautifully."
In the wondrous west on the ocean's breast
Lies the sun upon the deep,
While the fair light dies from the crimson skies
As he slowly sinks to sleep;
And the dreamy haze of his crimson blaze
Goes out of the summer air;
As over the clift my fancies drift
To a clime without a care.
He seemeth to shrink from the very brink
Of the dim horizon's line,
Out and away o'er the edge of day
To a land that is divine.
He gilded with beams of golden streams
The mountains upon the right,
And then old time with a love sublime
Gave the world another night
I saw the sun set golden on a hill
With crimson streamers of the dying day
Mid molten copper clouds, with many a ray
And glowing shaft of dazzling light, and still
The sunlight faded not, but seemed to fill
The sky with splendor as if it would stay
Forever beautiful nor pass away
Except in glory and with dauntless will.
I thought of souls who bravely journeyed on
Beneath dull skies, beset by pain and strife,
Without the light of gladsome sun to send
Them strength, until, when every hope seemed gone,
The clouds had melted into radiance, and life
Appeared serene and splendid at the end.
Send me a song at sunset.
And fill each pulsing line
With the lilt the runnel sang in June
And the sigh of the swaying pine.
The swaying pine had green young tips —
One soft caressed my cheek;
Ah! happily the water sang
The thing we dared not speak.
Send me a sigh at sunset,
A sigh for life and loss.
My heart shall hear, and whisper clear
A thousand miles across,
"In June the pine had green young tips —
But ah! beloved, remember
How clear the steadfast hue abides
In frosts of chill December!"
Send me a thought at sunset;
Straight on the level beams
It shall leap the earth and breast the sea
To color all my dreams
Anew a golden June shall bum
And pine-tips kiss my cheek.
What time the lilting runnel sings
The thing we dared not speak.
The brilliant orb of day hangs in the west;
The gold-fringed clouds in splendor cluster round,
And touch with amber glow the earth's dark ground.
The beaten paths and crumbling clods abound
With colors rare, and everywhere is found
Sol's benediction as he sinks to rest.
All nature sovereign beauty now assumes;
As nuggets fair the' gold-tinged pebble fills
The splashing brooklets and the shining rills;
And how the grandeur of the sun now thrills,
As large and red it dips behind the hills,
And fills the earth with mellow twilight glooms!
Across the rosy west dim shadows steal.
First timidly, forerunners of the night,
They seem to struggle with the parting light;
Then stretching forth in unexpected might
They merge from out their darksome covert, night,
Their sullen shroud more boldly to reveal
Thus oft we watch night draw its sable pall
Across the glory' of the western skies;
And night enthroned we watch as daylight dies.
The tops of ghostly pines, now towering high,
Are swept to motion by the winds, and sigh
As on its dismal throne night reigns o'er all.
We think of that last eve, when ebbing: life
(As fading twilight yields its charms to night,
Extinguishing earth's grandeur from our sight)
Will close these heavy lids. But ah! the flight
On cherub wings through darkness unto light
Is brief; then rest we free from fear and strife.
High up in heaven the foamy flakes
Of sunset-clouds are resting;
The rose-tint o'er them softly breaks
Their ragged edges cresting;
Here lies a strip of darkling blue,
Fringed with a soft pale yellow;
Close by a crimson shade is seen
Blending with each bright billow.
But see! a purple light now glows,
Fading but lovely still,
Replaced by gold and silver rays
That flash from hill to hill.
Low down beneath an orange shade
Of clouds more still and dark,
The sun is slowly sinking now —
Of heaven's sea the bark;
For like an ocean broad, methinks
The tinted clouds are spread;
And through their billows bright, the sun
Each day his course hath sped.
But he has gone — and lo! the clouds
That flitted o'er his way,
The blue, the gold, the orange shade,
Have changed to sober gray.
'Tis thus with life — some brilliant sun
Our rough path crosses o'er,
But soon is gone; the ray is lent,
Then, quivering, gleams no more.
Not in ourselves are all the shades
That make our sky so bright;
But, like the clouds at sunset hour,
We shine with borrowed light.
The clouds in a sunset are ones of beauty, making the sky look like a masterpiece painting.
Enjoy more poems about clouds for more thoughts on the impact of clouds in our life.
Sunset And Twilight
Poet: M. J. E. Crawford
The sun hath gone down in the crimsoned west,
The dove hath flown to her lonely nest,
And the golden light of departing day
Tinges the mountains far away,
Till their green sides glow with a brilliant flush,
Like a calm face lighting with love's warm blush.
The sky is bright as the light that gleams
From the sparkling waves of sunlit streams,
And the rosy clouds are soft and light
As the dreams which visit our hearts by night
The soft west wind as it murmurs by
With its fragrant breath and dreamy sigh,
Makes music sweet as the pleasant tones
Which fall from the lips of loving ones —
Tones which leave in the inmost heart
Gentle echoes which never depart.
The eye which rests on a scene so bright
Never can tire of the gorgeous sight:
The soul is filled with a rapture pure,
That mortal senses can scarce endure;
The pulses throb, and the full heart longs
To frame its bliss into thrilling songs,
The glorious light to its depth to win,
And drink the spirit of beauty in;
Embody each delicate tint and glow,
And breathe it in music soft and low;
But its powers are bound in too bright a chain —
Lips can not utter that spirit-strain.
The bright hues fade, and a purple mist
Creeps o'er the hills which the sunbeams kissed;
The thin clouds melt from their mellow hue.
And lose themselves in the deep, dark blue;
While shadows steal o'er the quiet scene,
Like fairy forms from the woodland green.
The day-blooms softly are folding up
The glowing leaves of each tiny cup,
Quietly closing each drowsy eye,
Till light returns to the eastern sky;
While dew-drops gather like gems of light,
In hearts of blossoms which scent the night.
The stars come out in the arch above,
Pure lamps lit up by the hand of love;
And earthward spreading their shining wings,
As if to vie with those radiant things;
The fireflies glitter and gleam and glance.
And seem to move in a mystic dance;
The sound of streams and the scent of flowers
Seem sweeter now than at other hours,
And the soul grows calm in the twilight air,
And bows itself in unspoken prayer.
The stars in the sky can be as amazing as a sunset. You may be inspired by our
poems about stars - they
may remind you of the majesty of the night sky.
Poet: Eva M. What
I gaze at the beautiful sunset,
Portrayed by an Artist Divine,
In colors of roseate splendor,
In which mellow glories do shine.
Was ever a scene so majestic
Wrought daily for mortals below?
Methinks that the angels of heaven
Are charmed with its radiant glow.
Now misty, gray clouds are approaching;
Will they hinder this marvelous scene?
Ah, no! they transform to the grandeur
Of the sunset, so calm and serene.
The mountains so lofty and somber,
And hitherto bleak as the snow,
Now bathed in this far-reaching splendor,
Become with the sunset aglow.
Then each with its rare beauty tinted,
Reflects on the valley forlorn,
The soft, mellow halo of sunset,
More fair than the glow of the moon.
Be each of our lives as the sunset,
Adorned by the great Artist's hand,
Reflecting the light in the darkness
As He in his wisdom has planned,
Till like the gray clouds and bleak mountains,
And the vale when the day has withdrawn,
Each life may be lighted with beauties —
As these, and keep passing them on.
And as we are clothed like the sunset,
With beauty the world to adorn,
God grant that life's eve be more brilliant.
With glory, by far, than its morn.
Beauty surrounds us everywhere if we just stop and look for it. A sunset, a sunrise, a flower, trees swaying in the wind, the formation of clouds, the list could go on and on. Be reminded to see the beauty
that surrounds us each and every day in these poems about beauty.
Poet: Percy Bysshe Shelley
If solitude hath ever led thy steps
To the wild ocean's echoing shore.
And thou hast lingered there
Until the sun's broad orb
Seemed resting on the burnished wave,
Thou must have marked the lines
Of purple gold that motionless
Hung o'er the sinking sphere;
Thou must have marked the billowy clouds,
Edged with intolerable radiancy,
Towering like rocks of jet
Crowned with a diamond wreath.
And yet there is a moment,
When the sun's highest point
Peeps like a star o'er ocean's western edge,
When those far clouds of feathery gold,
Shaded with deepest purple, gleam
Like islands on a dark-blue sea;
Then has thy fancy soared above the earth,
And furled its wearied wing
Within the Fairy's fane.
Yet not the golden islands
Gleaming in yon flood of light.
Nor the feathery curtains
Stretching o'er the sun's bright couch,
Nor the burnished ocean's waves
Paving that gorgeous dome,
So fair, so wonderful a sight
As Mab's ethereal palace could afford.
Yet likest evening's vault, that fairy hall!
Heaven, low resting on the wave, it spread
Its floors of flashing light.
Its vast and azure dome,
Its fertile golden islands
Floating on a silver sea;
Whilst suns their mingling beaming darted
Through clouds of circumambient darkness,
And pearly battlements around
Looked o'er the immense of heaven.
Broad wave on wave of scarlet flecked with gold,
Outstretched beneath an opalescent sky,
Wherein pale tints with glowing colors vie;
From their birthplace within the sea are rolled
Sweet perfumes by the sea-breeze strong and cold.
Here white sails gleam and soft cloud-shadows lie,
And isles are kissed by winds that wanton by,
Or rocked by gales in unchecked passion bold.
Locked in by swelling, fir-clad hills it lies -
One stretch of purpling, heavy gold; serene,
It laughs and dimples under sunset skies,
Toward which the chaste Olympies, snow-girt, lean,
And, bathing in that flood of glory, make
Fit setting for that burnished ocean-lake.
Slowly the sun sinks in the west;
The song-bird, hovering o'er her nest,
Softly twitters her evening song;
While from the fields, where all day long
The harvesters with sickles keen
Have cut the waving, golden sheen
Of ripened grain, and while the dew
Falls on each bud and floweret new,
The whippoorwill from thicket green
Pipes his shrill whistle all unseen;
While moonlit rays of silvery light
Pierce through the gloom of darkening night,
And twinkling stars shine softly through
The azure depths of heavenly blue;
And with the sleeping world abide
The watchful sprites of eventide.
I love the beautiful evening
When the sunset clouds are gold;
When the barn-fowls seek a shelter,
And the young lambs seek their fold:
When the four-o'clocks are open,
And the swallows homeward come;
When the horses cease their labors,
And the cows come home;
When the sunset and the twilight
In mingling hues are bent,
I can sit and watch the shadows
With my full heart all content;
And I wish for nothing- brighter,
And I long no more to roam
When the twilight's peace comes o'er me,
And the cows come home.
The sunset's crown of radiant gold
And robe of amethyst
Had paled to twilight gray and cold
And trembling veils of mist;
Then, up in the heaven the white moon sailed,
And, gleaming in her wake,
Her silvery shimmering garments trailed -
A shining way, in shadows veiled,
Across the dusky lake.
The darkness quenched the sunset hues;
Day, shrouded, sank in night;
Yet through the gloom and through the dews
Still trailed that track of light.
No wind bore upward hymn or prayer,
No step throbbed on the sod,
And yet my soul saw opened there -
Cross lake, o'er mount, through ambient air -
A shining path to God.
O coward soul, that fears to miss
The glow from out thy sky,
That shrinks from sorrow's touch and kiss
When shades are drawing nigh, -
Beyond the night's o'ershadowing form
Light gleams on wave and sod,
And thou mayst climb - thy robe and crown
Faded and in the dust laid down -
That shining way to God.
The river sleeps beneath the sky,
And clasps the shadows to its breast;
The crescent moon shines dim on high;
And in the lately radiant west
The gold is fading into gray.
Now stills the lark his festive lay,
And mourns with me the dying day.
While in the south the first faint star
Lifts to the night its silver face,
And twinkles to the moon afar
Across the heaven’s graying space,
Low murmurs reach me from the town,
As Day puts on her sombre crown,
And shakes her mantle darkly down.
The Sea Of Sunset
Poet: Emily Dickinson
This is the land the sunset washes,
These are the banks of the Yellow Sea;
Where it rose, or whither it rushes,
These are the western mystery!
Night after night her purple traffic
Strews the landing with opal bales;
Merchantmen poise upon horizons,
Dip, and vanish with fairy sails.