Victorian Poetry/Good Night

GOOD NIGHT.

Downward sinks the setting sun;
Soft the evening shadows fall:
Light is flying,
Day is dying,
Darkness stealeth over all.
Good night!

Autumn gathers in her stores,
Foison of the fading year:
Leaves are dying,
Winds are sighing,
Whispering of the winter near.
Good night!

Youth is vanished – Manhood wanes –
Age its forward shadows throws:
Day is dying,
Years are flying,
Life runs onward to its close.
Good night!

The above beautiful poem is taken from a graceful little volume, by James Clephan, Esq., which has just been printed for private distribution

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Related link: - In 1859 Joseph Skipsey published a volume of poems which attracted the attention of James Clephan, the editor of the Gateshead Observer.

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