210 THROUGH LIBRARY WINDOWS 



ing of it, the glory of it, the hallowed memory 

 of it! 



But this day, like other days, was passing. 

 The fulness of the flood was spent, the deep, 

 rich light was slowly waning, the sunbeams were 

 lessening in length, the afterglow was fading, 

 every faculty sensed the surcease. The molten 

 west that had gathered into itself the ebbing 

 tide of this sunset was creating panoramic 

 paintings most charming to eye and mind. The 

 eastern sky grew dull and duller and colder 

 and darker, and beauty faded from every land- 

 scape. The sun had gone and his glory van- 

 ished. 



"Blue bloom had fled the distant hill, 

 Mystic grays the mid-air fill, 

 The low winds have their cooling play; 

 Farewell to the passing day, 

 Evening is on her way." 



