The Winter Solstice at Hawker's Pot

 Ode to the Declining Sun

“O Sun!  with what words shall I describe

Thy majestic sinking through the skies?

Shall I say, with clouds all girt around,

Thou layest thy head on the dark ground,

All wearied and foredone,

O Sun?”

(Thus spake the poet on Heathmoor’s Head

Gazing at the sunset’s red.)

“Or, that sinking to the West

Thou takest thy rest

Among the gleaming cloudbanks?”

(And the Sun on the horizon said:

“No thanks.”)