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The Sinking Sun
David William Paley
That proud monarch of the skies
Prepared for one last blaze,
Sinks through golden clouds
To dip beneath the sea
And die in blood red light.
For, that majestic pride,
Without the sound of protest,
Is with ease extinguished,
Defeated by the night.
Below a far off earth,
Beyond the reach of man,
Proud day, in all its pomp,
Has sunk beneath the waves
And signed a last farewell.
It has reached the peak of power
But then from the throne descends
Deposed and banished to the land
Where all the days must dwell.
Now, the minor rulers,
Seize their chance to shine
Glad to take their rightful place
And dance among the heavens
To greet their widowed queen.
She displays a gracious charm
Unlike bombastic day,
Who flared in brief parade
But no longer will be seen.
Thus, do chariots of fire
Burn their substance up
To reach the heights of fame
But plunge again to earth
Dismissed by rising stars.
Then, a lantern made of pearl
Streams with purer light
Redolent of Venus
Rather than of Mars.
Gold declines to silver
As silence rules the Earth
Without the blare of trumpets;
But that fair day has passed
And is but briefly mourned;
His like will not return
'Though dawn will bring another
Perhaps the more enlightened
For predecessors scorned.
© David William Paley
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