Rich this hour with precision arrayed,
a banquet of beauty in wonder displayed.
Hasten, evening's coloured patterns ply
a mystique and ever changing sky,
fanned by the flames of day's sweet play,
the crimson-painted canvas steals the sun away.
An embroidered pageant of golden waves that die
shall close to relinguish its bright ebamelled eye,
with fading light, time serving, subtle heaven use
to create the bouyant atmosphere of twilight hues
with coloured fragrance of evening's expance;
invite radiant joys that with extravagance dance,
such furnace passions, this exquisite fire
reflects life's beauty, that with tears shall expire
to time's unrelenting, fast quickening pace.
In trust, our eyes may kiss tomorrow's face,
but, should destiny's hand my hour so chose
within these closing rays my breath to lose,
happily so, for I've savoured what's rare,
the freedom of birth in England's cherished air.