Classic Poem

The sun, that in the west
Sank low, shot up his yellow light
Against the bricken gable's height
Where then they sought their rest;
While people, one by one,
Came on, longshaded, from their road
Or daily work, to their abode
Below the setting sun.

In wind, that from the west
Sprang fresh, we saw the elm-heads bend
Against the house's bricken end
To rock the rook's high nest;
The while the green was thinn'd
Of children, that in merry flocks
Had play'd about with glossy locks
All quiv'ring in the wind.

" Good-night" with old and young,
To trav'llers met upon the way
And weary workmates of the day,
Had rung from every tongue;
And then the slanting light
Upbrighten'd with a golden rim
Of glory ev'ry head and limb
Before their door at night.

May hands and minds yet find
Their happy work all free of sin,
With never-sinking health to win
What's needed for our kind!
And if on open lands.
The man may spend his morning strength,
Still may a happy home at length
Await his weary hands.