William Ernest Henley (1849–1903)

A LATE lark twitters from the quiet skies;

And from the west,

Where the sun, his day’s work ended,

Lingers as in content,

There falls on the old, grey city

An influence luminous and serene,

A shining peace.

The smoke ascends

In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires

Shine, and are changed. In the valley

Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun,

Closing his benediction,

Sinks, and the darkening air

Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night—

Night with her train of stars

And her great gift of sleep.

So be my passing!

My task accomplish’d and the long day done,

My wages taken, and in my heart

Some late lark singing,

Let me be gather’d to the quiet west,

The sundown splendid and serene,

Death.