Linger, oh Sun, for a little, nor close yet this day of a million! <br /> Is there not glory enough in the rose-curtained halls of the West? <br />Hast thou no joy in the passion-hued folds of thy kingly pavilion? <br /> Why shouldst thou only pass through it? Oh rest thee a little while, rest! <br /> <br />Why should the Night come and take it, the wan Night that cannot enjoy it, <br /> Bringing pale argent for golden, and changing vermilion to grey? <br />Why should the Night come and shadow it, entering but to destroy it? <br /> Rest 'mid thy ruby-trailed splendours! Oh stay thee a little while, stay! <br /> <br />Rest thee at least a brief hour in it! 'Tis a right royal pavilion. <br /> Lo, there are thrones for high dalliance all gloriously canopied o'er! <br />Lo, there are hangings of purple, and hangings of blue and vermilion, <br /> And there are fleeces of gold for thy feet on the diapered floor! <br /> <br />Linger, a little while linger. To-morrow my heart may not sing to thee: <br /> This shall be Yesterday, numbered with memories, folded away. <br />Now should my flesh-fettered soul be set free! I would soar to thee, <br /> cling to thee, <br /> And be thy rere-ward Aurora, pursuing the skirts of To-day!<br /><br />James Brunton Stephens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/day-4/
