The sun has sunk beneath the skies,
But leaves a soft warm glow behind;
And, climbing slowly down, he dies,
Like me to heavy rest inclined:
My eyes are drowsy and call for sleep;
For they were not long dark this morn:
I'll now let Rest upon me creep,
And slumber as the night is born.
David Mitchell
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-late-evening-poem/
