Beyond the Hills of Dream

by William Wilfred Campbell


Glory of the Dying Day


O GLORY of the dying day
That into darkness fades away!
O violet splendor melting down
By river bend o’er tower and town!
O glory of the dying day
That into darkness fades away!
O splendor of the gates of night!
O majesty of dying light
That all a molten glory glows,
Till purple-crimson fades to rose
And dying, melting, outward goes
In ashes on the even’s rim,
When all the world grows faint and dim!
O silvern sound of far-off bells
     Ringing, ringing miles away
Over river, fields, and fells,
     Round the crimson and the gray;
Pealing softly evening out
     As the dewy dusk comes down,
And the great night folds about
     River, woodlands, hills, and town!
O glory of the fading hills!
     Splendor of the river’s breast!
O silence that the whole world fills!
     Sanctity of peaceful rest!
Alien from the care of day,
     Now a petalled star peeps in:
     Now night’s choruses begin,
Musical and far away.
O glory of the dying day,
When my life’s evening fades away,
May it in splendid peace go down
Like yours o’er river-bend and town—
Not into silence blind and stark,
Not into wintry muffled dark—
     But, heralded by stars divine,
May my life’s latest evening ray
     Melt into such a night as thine.