FAR in the gold-embroidered west The round and red sun lay, Like a great wound upon the breast Of the slow-dying day. Night, and a murmur from the east; I heard the wind's voice roll Out of the dark, a solemn priest, Speeding the day's white soul. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TERMINUS (1) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON BEFORE ACTION by WILLIAM NOEL HODGSON EPIGRAM: TO FOOL, OR KNAVE by BEN JONSON THE CAPTAINS OF THE YEARS by ARTHUR RAYMOND MACDOUGALL JR. THE QUESTION by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE THIRD OF FEBRUARY, 1852 by ALFRED TENNYSON |