Somewhere—in desolate wind-swept space—In Twilight-land—in No-man’s land—Two hurrying Shapes met face to face, And bade each other stand. “And who are you?” cried one, agape, Shuddering in the gloaming light. “I know not, ” said the second Shape, “I only died last night.”
This grand show is eternal. It is always sunrise somewhere; the dew is never all dried at once; a shower is forever falling; vapor is ever rising. Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls.john muir
The gloaming comes, the day is spent, The sun goes out of sight, And painted is the Occident With purple sanguine bright.