Sunset Poems

Popular Sunset Poems

A Busy Man

by Robert William Service

This crowded life of God's good giving
No man has relished more than I;
I've been so goldarned busy living
I've never had the time to die.
So busy fishing, hunting, roving,
Up on my toes and fighting fit;
So busy singing, laughing, loving,
I've never had the time to quit.

I've never been one for thinking

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Two Sunsets

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

In the fair morning of his life,
When his pure heart lay in his breast,
Panting, with all that wild unrest
To plunge into the great world's strife

That fills young hearts with mad desire,
He saw a sunset. Red and gold
The burning billows surged and rolled,
And upward tossed their caps of fire.

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Realisation

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Hers was a lonely, shadowed lot;
Or so the unperceiving thought,
Who looked no deeper than her face,
Devoid of chiselled lines of grace –
No farther than her humble grate,
And wondered how she bore her fate.

Yet she was neither lone nor sad;
So much of love her spirit had,
She found an ever-flowing spring

......

The Barefoot Boy

by John Greenleaf Whittier

Blessings on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lip, redder still
Kissed by strawberries on the hill;
With the sunshine on thy face,
Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace;
From my heart I give thee joy, -
I was once a barefoot boy!

......

The Sycamores

by John Greenleaf Whittier

In the outskirts of the village
On the river's winding shores
Stand the Occidental plane-trees,
Stand the ancient sycamores.

One long century hath been numbered,
And another half-way told
Since the rustic Irish gleeman
Broke for them the virgin mould.

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Recent Sunset Poems

Memory Revisiting

by Evelyn Judy Buehler

black cherry dusk skies
and moon rose, it was silver
butterfly quivers

the gemmed stars were out
and Mom tending blooms, singing
clematis clinging

jade dragonfly lake
comes again in memory

......

The weight of dusk

by Little Dark age

Hues of pink and purple tuck the day,
Now fading into gray—
A fragile husk, an empty shell,
Now quiet in the dusk.
Soft, wispy clouds of fluff drift low and slow,
Their curves kissed by a golden glow.
They blush and hush, then pale with grace,
As dusk begins to take their place.
They cradle your silent ache,
The weight you never dared to wake.

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