The day is past and the toilers cease; <br />The land grows dim 'mid the shadows grey, <br />And hearts are glad, for the dark brings peace <br /> At the close of day. <br /> <br />Each weary toiler, with lingering pace, <br />As he homeward turns, with the long day done, <br />Looks out to the west, with the light on his face <br /> Of the setting sun. <br /> <br />Yet some see not (with their sin-dimmed eyes) <br />The promise of rest in the fading light; <br />But the clouds loom dark in the angry skies <br /> At the fall of night. <br /> <br />And some see only a golden sky <br />Where the elms their welcoming arms stretch wide <br />To the calling rooks, as they homeward fly <br /> At the eventide. <br /> <br />It speaks of peace that comes after strife, <br />Of the rest He sends to the hearts He tried, <br />Of the calm that follows the stormiest life -- <br /> God's eventide.<br /><br />John McCrae<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/eventide/
