Winnipeg—At Sunset

Sink in your pillows, O! Sun-King that reigns
From east unto west,
Bury your yellow head out on the plain's
Wind-beaten breast.

Sink in your cradle of colour and cloud,
King of the day,
Leaving us only the shadow and shroud
Of on-coming grey.

Twilight is lingering over the rim
Of prairie and sky,
Its purple and amethyst, born in the dim
Horizon, to die.

The city is blinking her myriad eyes
Of glimmering lights,
And the wintry moon in the wintry skies
Sails up the heights.

While her thousand vassals of stars step forth
The night to greet,
Where the city—queen of the west and north—
Stands at their feet.

She who in garment of icicles dressed
Regally reigns,
Queen of the prairie-land, queen of the west,
Queen of the plains.
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