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OFT, at the close of a hot summer day,
The gorgeous colors of the sunset fade.
And the piled clouds from crimson burn to gray;
Then, 'twixt this splendor of the daylight's death,
And the black, hopeless curtain of the night,
By soft, sweet breezes heralded and followed.
The after-glow shines out with tender light,
And with its gentle, quiet lustre fills
The heated heaven.
Thus it is with man.
After the noontide flush and fire of youth
Comes on a restful time, with colors wan,
To calm and cool life-heated heart and brain
Ere easeful death brings endless welcome sleep.
J. K. M.
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