The Last of Sunset

By George Sterling

The moon-dawn, breaking on the eastern height
    Washes in silver the forsaken shore;
    Between the day and dark the sea-gulls soar,
And on the sands the foam is ghostly white.
Arcturus burns, the key-star of the night,
    And swept by winds that never blew before
    The harp-chords of the ocean flash and roar,
And seaward now sinks Venus' golden light.

Alone, I watch her beautiful unrest—
The shuddering of her topaz on the west,
    As heaven and earth accept the twilight hush.
        Far fallen on the violascent seas,
    Where ocean gods awhile to sunset crush
        The scarlet grapes of the Hesperides.

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