Splendor of ended day floating and filling me,
Hour prophetic, hour resuming the past,
Inflating my throat, you divine average,
You earth and life till the last ray gleams I sing.
Open mouth of my soul uttering gladness,
Eyes of my soul seeing perfection,
Natural life of me faithfully praising things,
Corroborating forever the triumph of things.
O setting sun! though the time has come,
I still warble under you, if none else does, unmitigated adoration.
~© Walt Whitman~
~Images are © Trina Drake, unless otherwise specified~
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