Sagas of Vaster Britain: Poems of the Race, the Empire and the Divinity of Man

by William Wilfred Campbell




THE far, wild splendours of the west
    In purple currents run,
Where all the day-winds beat against
    The bastions of the sun.

Till rising, sinking, on the rim

    Of night that looms afar,
The day-wall fades and crumbles down
    Across the sunset’s bar.

And up above the cooling verge
    The night comes like a boon,

Where all the sky and waters meet
    At rising of the moon.

The rising moon and one pale star
    Lift o’er the water’s edge;—
And all the ancient woes of earth

    Are moaning in the sedge.