A dying sun reflected 'pon
life it nurtured by the day,
Forbade the mourning of
valediction by its parting ray. 🌇
There's no evening that ends
without promise of new morn,
And it's only in end of a day
that the next one can be born. 🌇
So, in the west's wicker casket
as it lays weary gleam to rest,
It leaves the world still brighter
with the last of its shining best. 🌇
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