One With The Ruined Sunset
One with the ruined sunset,
The strange forsaken sands,
What is it waits, and wanders,
And signs with desparate hands?
What is it calls in the twilight -
Calls as its chance were vain?
The cry of a gull sent seaward
Or the voice of an ancient pain?
The red ghost of the sunset,
It walks them as its own,
These dreary and desolate reaches . . .
But O, that it walked alone!
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Related quotes
Just Beyond The Sunset
Just beyond the sunset
Someone waits for me
Just beyond the sunset
Lies my destiny
Where the purple mountains
Lie in deep tranquillity
There I’ll find the treasure
Of love eternally
Just beyond the sunset
Waits someone so fair
Just beyond the sunset
All alone they wait there
Their hair is golden
The colour of the sand
Their eyes sparkle in the night
Like diamonds in your hand
Just beyond the sunset
Lies a home for me
Where the world is peaceful
Like a paradise should be
Just beyond the sunset
Someday is where you’ll find me
Written - July or Aug 1966
poem by David Harris
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Sunset Grill
Lets go down to the sunset grill
We can watch the working girls go by
Watch the basket people walk around and
Mumble
And stare out at the auburn sky
Theres an old man there from the old world
To him, its all the same
Calls all his customers by name
Down at the sunset grill
Down at the sunset grill
Down at the sunset grill
Down at the sunset grill
You see a lot more meanness in the city
Its the kind that tears you up inside
Hard to come away with anything that feels
Like dignity
Hard to get home with any pride
These days a man makes you somethin
And you never see his face
But there is no hiding place
Down at the sunset grill
Down at the sunset grill
Down at the sunset grill
Down at the sunset grill
Respectable little murders pay
They get more respectable every day
Dont worry girl, Im gonna stick by you
And someday soon were gonna get in that
Car and get outta here
Lets go down to the sunset grill
Watch the working girls go by
Watch the basket people walk around and
Mumble
And gaze out at the auburn sky
Maybe well leave come springtime
Meanwhile, have another beer
What would we do without these jerks
Anyway?
Besides, all our friends are here
Down at the sunset grill
Down at the sunset grill
Down at the sunset grill
Down at the sunset grill
song performed by by Don Henley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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As The Sunset
As the sunset I think to myself why.
As the sunset I sit down and cry.
Wondering why life got to be a lie.
As the sunset I dropp my head.
As the sunset I think about you instead.
How can I go home and get in my bed.
As the sunset I say no.
As the sunset I just don't know.
My love that I have for u just wont go.
As the sunset I look to the sky.
As the sunset I wait to die.
Tell me how to say good-bye.
As the sunset I say a prayer.
As the sunset how can I dare.
I'm giving up, I just don't care.
Sitting by the window watching the sun to set.
Knowing I'm going to see you again,
and you coming back home at the end.
By: Brittany Smith
9/25/08
poem by Brittany Smith
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Tide Rises, the Tide Falls, The
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveler hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveler to the shore.
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Tide Rises, the Tide Falls
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Ultima Thule: The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls
The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveller hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in the darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands,
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveller to the shore,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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To Asya
Evening noise in the burning sunset
On twilight of winter day.
The third call. Hurry, remember me,
You that are going away!
Emerald wave is awaiting you,
Splash of an oar of blue,
To live our life underground, difficult,
Was not possible to you.
Well then, ahead, that our murky struggle
Into our ranks never calls,
If the transparent wetness appeals to you
Flight of the silver seagulls!
Give my regards to the hot, the brilliant,
Burning sun,
Your question pose to all strong and bright -
Answer will come!
Evening noise in the burning sunset
On twilight of winter day.
The third call. Hurry, remember me,
You that are going away!
poem by Marina Ivanovna Tsvetaeva
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Beyond The Sunset
We all know of heaven
and all know where it lies,
beyond the sunset
of our passing lives.
We look to the west
at sunset in hope to see
a glimpse of heaven
that waits for us there.
A place that is wonderful
and peace reins everywhere
beyond the sunset none ever wants
to come back from there.
We go there with our dreams,
hopes, and ambitions
to rest forever
doing the things we want to do.
Beyond the sunset,
we reunite with old friends and loved ones
never with any worries
as our long sleep transcends.
28 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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A Voice On The Wind
I
She walks with the wind on the windy height
When the rocks are loud and the waves are white,
And all night long she calls through the night,
'O my children, come home!'
Her bleak gown, torn as a tattered cloud,
Tosses around her like a shroud,
While over the deep her voice rings loud,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
II
Who is she who wanders alone,
When the wind drives sheer and the rain is blown?
Who walks all night and makes her moan,
'O my children, come home!'
Whose face is raised to the blinding gale;
Whose hair blows black and whose eyes are pale,
While over the world goes by her wail,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
III
She walks with the wind in the windy wood;
The dark rain drips from her hair and hood,
And her cry sobs by, like a ghost pursued,
'O my children, come home!'
Where the trees loom gaunt and the rocks stretch drear,
The owl and the fox crouch back with fear,
As wild through the wood her voice they hear,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
IV
Who is she who shudders by
When the boughs blow bare and the dead leaves fly?
Who walks all night with her wailing cry,
'O my children, come home!'
Who, strange of look, and wild of tongue,
With wan feet wounded and hands wild-wrung,
Sweeps on and on with her cry, far-flung,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
V
'Tis the Spirit of Autumn, no man sees,
The mother of Death and of Mysteries,
Who cries on the wind all night to these,
'O my children, come home!'
The Spirit of Autumn, pierced with pain,
Calling her children home again,
Death and Dreams, through ruin and rain,-
'O my children, come home, come home!
O my children, come home!'
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
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Early Works - The Twilight Hour
When twilight is here
you shall see
but not hear a sound
the world will be peaceful
the seas will be calm
the flowers will sway gracefully
in the breeze as night does come.
The twilight hour
is the hour before darkness does prevail
when little children into dreamland sail
when the sunset leaves the sky grey and blue
then the twilight hour comes into view.
The big city sounds die peacefully
when twilight calls gracefully
as small creatures rest their heads in sleep
as all the world in tranquil stillness does seep
for the twilight hour is tranquil
as it gracefully does call.
Date unknown
poem by David Harris
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For All Of Us A Last Sunset
For all of us a last sunset like for all of us there was a first sunrise
A saying that's been around for years that came from someone wise
And every sunset that we see is one nearer to our last
Our biological clocks are ticking on and ticking ever fast
This evening the sun like a huge red ball set behind the western hill
And how many more sunsets for me since time does not stand still
I watched it disappear from view where it set the sky was red
A weather sign in the twilight sky of warmer days ahead
For all of us a last sunset so very very true
No matter what we achieve in life death it will be our due
Even for the greats of human history there was a last sunset
Though they live on in memory since them we don't forget
For all of us a last sunset the facts do never lie
Since like every other form of life we too are born to die.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Too Early Her Sunset
Oh, so much of drowning regrets!
When faced with too early a sunset
Time seems to have been cheating
And the Future is just disappearing.
Life becomes fast drifting sands
We fail to hold in our weakened hands
Dreams and plans like mists are set
To fade like fog in too early a sunset.
Too early to think of sleep and rest
Too early for having Death as guest
Why does it seem that Fate forgets
Not to come early, too early for sunset?
It pains and grieves my frail heart so
Words to comfort, how? I don't know.
She hangs on there till the End is met
No choice but to go, too early her sunset.
For Eden, my friend. (Brain cancer victim at 38.)
Cynthia Buhain-Baello
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Where Forlorn Sunsets Flare And Fade
Where forlorn sunsets flare and fade
On desolate sea and lonely sand,
Out of the silence and the shade
What is the voice of strange command
Calling you still, as friend calls friend
With love that cannot brook delay
To rise and follow the ways that wend
Over the hills and far away?
Hark in the city, street on street
A roaring reach of death and life,
Of vortices that clash and fleet
And ruin in appointed strife,
Hark to it calling, calling clear,
Calling until you cannot stay
From dearer things than your own most dear
Over the hills and far away?
Out of the sound of the ebb-and-flow,
Out of the sight of the lamp and star,
It calls you where the good winds blow,
And the unchanging meadows are;
From faded hopes and hopes agleam,
It calls you, calls you night and day
Beyond the dark into the dream
Over the hills and far away.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Over the Hills and Far Away
Where forlorn sunsets flare and fade
On desolate sea and lonely sand,
Out of the silence and the shade
What is the voice of strange command
Calling you still, as friend calls friend
With love that cannot brook delay,
To rise and follow the ways that wend
Over the hills and far away?
Hark in the city, street on street
A roaring reach of death and life,
Of vortices that clash and fleet
And ruin in appointed strife,
Hark to it calling, calling clear,
Calling until you cannot stay
From dearer things than your own most dear
Over the hills and far away.
Out of the sound of the ebb-and-flow,
Out of the sight of lamp and star,
It calls you where the good winds blow,
And the unchanging meadows are;
From faded hopes and hopes agleam,
It calls you, calls you night and day
Beyond the dark into the dream
Over the hills and far away.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Tall like a scythe
All strange calls want to decry,
as my delusion will comply,
with blossoming my Crimson free,
splatter my odd kind of entity.
My winds are blowing benign,
every invitation a lonely sign,
of an afternoon's sunset toll,
or an alliteration's deign call.
My calls a sea gull's bluish flight
I invited you in lonely bight,
My role in life in vain Crusades,
orderly guided Angels Brigades.
I value my solitude in causes lost
One Apocalypse of imposed frost,
that fails to promote my crying
to iced lines of deathly line.
My logic divided a dual prism,
Ideal truth relies on this truism,
realities shine thus asunder,
Your advent is a Naiad's wonder.
A bluish fringe, hope's silken lint,
a scent of mountain wild mint,
Atropos unrolls a purple twine,
after my libation of crimson wine.
Words I expected from an angel,
in mind a crown on chapel temple,
maybe my love became a flower,
my vows have built a thorny tower.
So often I have fought for glory,
this is my asymptotic story,
a kiss to falter in dim despair,
my soul in prowess in ether's fare.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Three Songs Of The Enigma
I
SOMETHING
How long I have wished for something I know well,
But what that something is I cannot tell.
So often at sunrise in sad tears I wake
Shivering with longing for its sake;
So often at noontide when the house is still
It sickens me with its unbidden ill;
So often at twilight it does not seem far,
Not further than the first and far-off star;
All, all my life is built towards its token
Yet by its near far-offness I am broken.
For I am ever under something's spell,
But what that something is I cannot tell.
II
A WANDERING THING
The hopeless rain, a sigh, a shadow
Falters and drifts again, again over the meadow,
It wanders lost, drifts hither . . . thither,
It blows, it goes, it knows not whither.
A profound grief, an unknown sorrow
Wanders always my strange life thoro',
I know not ever what brings it hither,
Nor whence it comes . . . nor goes it whither.
III
MODERN LOVE SONG
Now that the evenfall is come,
And the sun fills the flaring trees
And everything is mad, lit, dumb,
And in the pauses of the breeze
A far voice seems to call me home
To haven beyond woods and leas.
I feel again how sharply stings
The spell which binds our troubled dust
With hint of divine frustrated things,—
The Soul's deep doubt and desperate trust
That She at sunset shall find wings
To bear her beyond NOW and MUST.
So place your head against my head,
And set your lips upon my lips
That so I may be comforted,—
For Ah ! the world so from me slips,
To the World-Sunset I am sped
Where Soul and Silence come to grips
And Love stands sore-astonished.
poem by Robert Nichols
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Paris
I knew when first I looked into her eyes,
And she in mine, that what has been must be,
And so let others say she told them lies:
She told no lie to me!
She spoke me fair, of lees as well as wine,
Then, with that subtlest charm of all her charms,
Half-dropped her languid lids, and at the sign
I ran into her arms!
Now it is she who flings my window wide
At dawn, and lets the perfumed morning in,
And she who walks so softly at my side,
Through noonday’s dust and din.
But, most of all, ’t is she, where blue night falls,
Whose firm, imperious fingers tap the pane,
And she whose velvet voice it is that calls,
Nor calls her own in vain!
It is as if the siren understood
How that she is so strong at this still hour,
That I could not repulse her if I would,
Nor would, had I the power:
As if she knew that, should I try to check
The strength of that enrapt, responsive thrill,
Let her but slide her arm about my neck,
And I obey her will!
So, when she speaks, I answer; when she woos,
Her voice, like wine, the slow pulse goads and spurs:
I go to meet her through the dropping dews,
And lean my lips to hers.
All the long hours run laughing into one—
The strange, sweet moment when the evening falls—
And, like a mother summoning her son,
Resistless Paris calls!
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1901)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Twilight 2
As the cool air comes at twilight
the songs of evening appear.
Everywhere you hear the night calls
that echo in the darkness.
The calls that inspire lovers
under the pale moonlight
as hand in hand they walk
through their own paradise.
In the darkness of the night
the creatures sing their chorus
for lovers that might call
that begins at twilight, ending when dawn calls.
23 September 2010
poem by David Harris
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Riot, a Voice in the Fire
You voice calls out through fire
Is violence all you ever knew
What are you seeking to be heard
When the sky is lit with anger
You voices become lost in a scream
And looters steal from everyone
Without a care for the cost they inflict
This is no revolution in this town
Just a fight against your boredom
Lay down you arms and speak clear
Your voice calls out through fire
While the innocent look on afraid
Their message has been stolen
In the actions you have undertaken
I can see blood on your hands
You are free and freedom is glory
Until you abuse it for terror
What of the freedom of the innocent
What about their voice being heard
Your voice calls out through fire
I don’t even want to listen
Let it burn and pray you will burn with it
Your voice called out in fire
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Listen To The Sunset
Listen to the sunset,
Hear its silent sigh
As it falls down the horisen
Warning, the moon is nigh
Listen to the sunset
Hear its silent threat
That darkness will be upon us
It makes everyone upset
Listen to the sunset
The vanity of its words
How beautiful this sunset is
With its colour, and birds
Listen to the sunset
See its pretty hue
But I cant enjoy the sunset
If I am not with you
All the pretty colours are meaningless
So are the birds, and the sounds
Because it all means nothing to me
If you are not around
Just remember this though,
Promise you wont forget,
Even if your far away,
We'll be watching the same sunset
So listen to the sunset
Enjoy its beauty true
When you see it, think of me
And I will think of you
poem by Katniss Everdeen
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