O’er west horizon sinks the setting sun

As Earth in its gyration turns

E’er close transporting woeful night, as day

Its wearied labor slow adjourns

In loath retreat now does the vanished orb

Flame hovering cirrus with bright fire

Thus ending splendid day with dazzled sky

And sailor’s fond delight inspire

Whilst overhead a slice of gibbous moon

Peers meekly through that flimsy cloak

And strives to grace the shore with silv’ry sheen

Thereby eschew night’s somber yoke

Among celestial constellations glides

That moon, to its ecliptic held

Its Newton’s force limp sea doth lift and tides

Become relentlessly compelled

E’er soon the crescent moon pursues the sun

And darkened carapace unfurls

Lone pierced by bright pinpricks from distant stars

And galaxies with far-off worlds

What of this day, how was it gaily spent?

How did we use that fleeting space?

By ling’ring lax or lab’ring hard, perchance?

Or nestling long in fierce embrace?