Poem by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

First Series. 5. And so the day drops by, the horizon draws

And so the day drops by, the horizon draws
The fading sun and we stand struck in grief,
Failing to find our haven of relief,
Wide of the way, nor sure to turn or pause,
And weep to view how fast the splendor wanes
And scarcely heed that yet some share remains
Of the red afterlight, some time to mark,
Some space between the sundown and the dark;
But not for him those golden calms succeed
Who while the day is high and glory reigns
Sees it go by, as the dim pampas plain,
Hoary with salt and gray with bitter weed,
Sees the vault blacken, feels the dark wind strain,
Hears the dry thunder roll, and knows no rain.

1. First Series. 7. Dank fens of cedar, hemlock branches gray
2. Third Series. 4. Thin little leaves of wood fern, ribbed and toothed
3. First Series. 8. As when down some broad river dropping, we
4. Second Series. 7. His heart was in his garden; but his brain
5. Second Series. 1. That boy, the farmer said, with hazel wand

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