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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=360764" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sunset Wings</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">TO-NIGHT this sunset spreads two golden wings<br>Cleaving the western sky;<br>Winged too with wind it is, and winnowings<br>Of birds; as if the day's last hour in rings<br>Of strenuous flight must die.<br>Sun-steeped in fire, the homeward pinions sway<br>Above the dovecote-tops;<br>And clouds of starlings, ere they rest with day,<br>Sink, clamorous like mill-waters, at wild play,<br>By turns in every copse: <br>Each tree heart-deep the wrangling rout receives,—<br>Save for the whirr within,<br>You could not tell the starlings from the leaves;<br>Then one great puff of wings, and the swarm heaves<br>Away with all its din.<br>Even thus Hope's hours, in ever-eddying flight,<br>To many a refuge tend;<br>With the first light she laughed, and the last light<br>Glows round her still; who natheless in the night<br>At length must make an end.<br>And now the mustering rooks innumerable<br>Together sail and soar,<br>While for the day's death, like a tolling knell,<br>Unto the heart they seem to cry, Farewell,<br>No more, farewell, no more!<br>Is Hope not plumed, as 'twere a fiery dart?<br>And oh! thou dying day,<br>Even as thou goest must she too depart,<br>And Sorrow fold such pinions on the heart<br>As will not fly away?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Dante+Gabriel+Rossetti">Dante Gabriel Rossetti</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=360764" data-title="Sunset Wings de Dante Gabriel Rossetti" data-description="TO-NIGHT this sunset spreads two golden wings
Cleaving the western sky;
Winged too with wind it is, and winnowings
Of birds; as if the day's last hour in rings
Of strenuous flight must die.
Sun-steeped in fire, the homeward pinions sway
Above the ..."></div>
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