| Author |
Quotes |
| Alexander Smith | The sun was down, And all the west was paved with sullen fire. I cried, "Behold! the barren beach of hell At ebb of tide." |
| Isaac Watts | How fine has the day been! how bright was the sun, How lovely and joyful the course that he run! Though he rose in a mist when his race he begun, And there followed some droppings of rain: But now the fair traveller's come to the west, His rays are all gold, and his beauties are best; He paints the skies gay as he sinks to his rest, And foretells a bright rising again. |
| J K Hoyt | Forming and breaking in the sky, I fancy all shapes are there; Temple, mountain, monument, spire; Ships rigged out with sails of fire, And blown by the evening air. |
| Lyman Heath | Oft did I wonder why the setting sun Should look upon us with a blushing face: Is't not for shame of what he hath seen done, Whilst in our hemisphere he ran his race? |
| Rev Frederick William Faber | 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. |
| Robert William Service | The lonely sunsets flare forlorn Down valleys dreadly desolate; The lonely mountains soar in scorn As still as death, as stern as fate. |
| Samuel Rogers | Long on the wave reflected lustres play. |
| Thomas Bailey Aldrich | 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. |
| William Falconer | The sacred lamp of day Now dipt in western clouds his parting day. |
| Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from Sinai. |
| Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon Like a magician extended his golden want o'er the landscape, Trinkling vapors arose, and sky and water and forest Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together. |
| Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | After a day of cloud and wind and rain Sometimes the setting sun breaks out again, And touching all the darksome woods with light, Smiles on the fields until they laugh and sing, Then like a ruby from the horizon's ring, Drops down into the night. |
| John Milton | And the gilded car of day, His glowing axle doth allay In the steep Atlantic stream. |
| Philip James Bailey | The death-bed of a day, how beautiful! |
| William Shakespeare | The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past. |
| William Shakespeare | When clouds are seen wise men put on their cloaks, When great leaves fall then winter is at hand. |
| William Shakespeare | When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks, When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand, When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms makes men expect a dearth. |
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