What, hast thou run thy race, art going down? <br />Thou seemest angry, why dost on us frown? <br />Yea, wrap thy head with clouds and hide thy face, <br />As threatening to withdraw from us thy grace? <br />O leave us not! When once thou hid'st thy head, <br />Our horizon with darkness will be spread. <br />Tell who hath thee offended, turn again. <br />Alas! too late, intreaties are in vain. <br /> <br />Comparison. <br /> <br />Our gospel has had here a summer's day, <br />But in its sunshine we, like fools, did play; <br />Or else fall out, and with each other wrangle, <br />And did, instead of work, not much but jangle. <br />And if our sun seems angry, hides his face, <br />Shall it go down, shall night possess this place? <br />Let not the voice of night birds us afflict, <br />And of our misspent summer us convict.<br /><br />John Bunyan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/of-the-going-down-of-the-sun/
