Give me one lonely hour to hymn the setting day.

  

Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colors

which it passes to a row of ancient trees.

You look, and soon these two worlds both leave you

one part climbs toward heaven, one sinks to earth.

leaving you, not really belonging to either,

not so hopelessly dark as that house that is silent,

not so unswervingly given to the eternal as that thing

that turns to a star each night and climbs-

leaving you (it is impossible to untangle the threads)

your own life, timid and standing high and growing,

so that, sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,

one moment your life is a stone in you, and the next, a star

~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~ 

I have heard the sunset song of the birches, 

A white melody in the silence, 

I have seen a quarrel of the pines. 

At nightfall 

The little grasses have rushed by me 

With the wind men. 

These things have I lived," quoth the maniac, 

"Possessing only eyes and ears. 

But you -- 

You don green spectacles before you look at roses.

~ Stephen Crane ~