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Archibald Lampman - Winter Evening
Work rating: Medium

   To-night the very horses springing by
   Toss gold from whitened nostrils. In a dream
   The streets that narrow to the westward gleam
   Like rows of golden palaces; and high
   From all the crowded chimneys tower and die
   A thousand aureoles. Down in the west
   The brimming plains beneath the sunset rest,
   One burning sea of gold. Soon, soon shall fly
   The glorious vision, and the hours shall feel
  A mightier master; soon from height to height,
  With silence and the sharp unpitying stars,
  Stern creeping frosts, and winds that touch like steel,
  Out of the depth beyond the eastern bars,
  Glittering and still shall come the awful night.
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