But one, the lofty follower of the Sun,
Sad when he sets, shuts up her yellow leaves
Drooping all night; and, when he warm returns,
Points her enamoured bosom to his ray.
SUNRISE
The sun had long since in the lap
Of Thetis taken out his nap,
And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn
From black to red began to turn.
Oh the road to Mandalay
Where the flyin'-fishes play
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer
China 'crost the Bay!
Kipling—Mandalay.
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{{Hoyt quote
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| text = <poem>The east is blossoming! Yea, a rose,
Vast as the heavens, soft as a kiss,
Sweet as the presence of woman is,
Rises and reaches, and widens and grows
Large and luminous up from the sea,
And out of the sea, as a blossoming tree,
Richer and richer, so higher and higher,
Deeper and deeper it takes its hue;
Brighter and brighter it reaches through
The space of heaven and the place of stars,
Till all is as rich as a rose can be,
And my rose-leaves fall into billows of fire.
Joaquin Miller—Sunrise in Venice.
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{{Hoyt quote
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| text = Night is the time for rest;
How sweet, when labours close,
To gather round an aching breast
The curtain of repose,
Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head
Down on our own delightful bed!
Montgomery—Night. St. 1.
The whole east was flecked
With flashing streaks and shafts of amethyst,
While a light crimson mist
Went up before the mounting luminary,
And all the strips of cloud began to vary
Their hues, and all the zenith seemed to ope
As if to show a cope beyond the cope!
Epes Sargent—Sunrise at Sea.
The heavenly-harness'd team
Begins his golden progress in the east.
Henry IV. Pt. I. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 221.
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{{Hoyt quote
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| text = He fires the proud tops of the eastern pines
And darts his light through every guilty hole.
Richard II. Act III. Sc. 2. L. 42.
As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,
Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach,
And overlooks the highest-peering hills.
Titus Andronicus. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 5.
Hail, gentle Dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail!
Rejoic'd I see thy purple mantle spread
O'er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way,
And orient pearls from ev'ry shrub depend.
Wm. Somerville—The Chase. Bk. II. L. 79.
And yonder fly his scattered golden arrows,
And smite the hills with day.
Bayard Taylor—The Poet's Journal. Third
Evening. Morning.
See! led by Morn, with dewy feet,
Apollo mounts his golden seat,
Replete with seven-fold fire;
While, dazzled by his conquering light,
Heaven's glittering host and awful night
Submissively retire.
Thomas Taylor—Ode to the Rising Sun.
See how there
The cowled night
Kneels on the Eastern sanctuary-stair.
Francis Thompson—A Corymbus for Autumn
St. 5.
East, oh, east of Himalay
Dwell the nations underground,
Hiding from the shock of day,
Fpr the sun's uprising sound . . .
So fearfully the sun doth sound,
Clanging up beyond Cathay;
For the great earthquaking sunrise
Rolling up beyond Cathay.
Francis Thompson—The Mistress of Vision.
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{{Hoyt quote
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| text = <poem>But yonder comes the powerful King of Day,
Rejoicing in the East.
Thomson—Seasons. Summer. L. 81.
The rising sun complies with our weak sight,
First gilds the clouds, then shows his globe of
light
At such a distance from our eyes, as though
He knew what harm his hasty beams would do.
Edmund Waller—To the King upon His
Majesty's Happy Return. L. 1.
SUNSET
Come watch with me the shaft of fire that glows
In yonder West: the fair, frail palaces,
The fading Alps and archipelagoes,
And great cloud-continents of sunset-seas.
T. B. Aldrich—Sonnet. Miracles.
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{{Hoyt quote
| num = 15
| text = The death-bed of a day, how beautiful!
Bailey—Festus. Sc. A Library and Balcony.
It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded
Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill,
Which then seems as if the whole earth is bounded,
Circling all nature, hush'd, and dim, and still,
With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded
On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill
Upon the other, and the rosy sky
With one star sparkling through it like an eye.
| author = Byron
| work = Don Juan. Canto II. St. 183.
See! he sinks
Without a word; and his ensanguined bier
Is vacant in the west, while far and near
Behold! each coward shadow eastward shrinks,
Thou dost not strive, O sun, nor dost thou cry
Amid thy cloud-built streets.
Faber—The Rosary and Other Poems. On the
Ramparts at AngouUme.
