March Sunset

Light fades, under the creeping edge of darker hours,

Beyond the organ grooves and sandy towers,

Burns up a sky of lapis lazuli.

A conflagration from the west

Reflects each brick and stone,

Projects the spire, the rough hewn cross;

Towers of fire reaching aloft.

If now the alchemist could see their orange hue

Behold the basic churchyard stone,

Now change, now changed to greater worth,

Above the huddled buildings at the top of the hill,

The light resplendent creeps

Under the edge of darkening hours

The light resplendent, fades.