Sunset

Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792–1822)

From “Queen Mab”

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 beamings darted

Through clouds of circumambient darkness,

And pearly battlements around

Looked o’er the immense of heaven.