Lo! The sun, that gallant king of skies,
Descends to where the distant horizon lies.
Its golden chariot yields to shadows grim,
Eclipsed by dusk, the air grows faint and dim.
Ah! Wherefore dost thou flee, O crimson sun?
Thy glow once crowned the heavens, now undone.
The fields, erstwhile aglow with amber hue,
Lie cloaked in night; their breath, a silent rue.
In days of yore, thy light did steadfast shine,
A beacon eternal, radiance divine.
Yet now, thy fleeting touch dost swift retreat,
As mortal hearts bemoan the loss they meet.
Return, O sun, with thy resplendent blaze,
Chase from this world the night's unwelcome haze.
Let dawn’s clarion swell with joy anew,
Rekindle hope where shadows now imbue.
Thus, as each ember fades, new morns arise,
A promise carved within the changing skies.
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