Look not to the west where the sun is dying
On fields of darkening clouds!
Look not to the west where the wild birds nest
And the winds are hieing
To sweep away sleep from the forest,
And tatter the shrouds of sable silence
Lit by the fire-fly's morris-dance.
Look not to the west —
‘ Tis best for the heart to hear not the chants
Of Evening over day's death!
Look not to the west where the sun is dying —
The sun that rose with song!
Look not to the west where the closèd quest
Of thy soul seems lying;
Where every sorrow that ever
Was wed with wrong in human breast,
From the sea of its radiance never fades!
Look not to the west —
‘ Tis best for the heart to see not the shades
That rise — the wrecks of the Past!