Page:In Flanders Fields and Other Poems.djvu/54

 Eventide

HE day is past and the toilers cease;

The land grows dim 'mid the shadows grey,

And hearts are glad, for the dark brings peace

At the close of day.

Each weary toiler, with lingering pace,

As he homeward turns, with the long day done,

Looks out to the west, with the light on his face

Of the setting sun.

Yet some see not (with their sin-dimmed eyes)

The promise of rest in the fading light;

But the clouds loom dark in the angry skies

At the fall of night.

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