Sing to the fading sunset,
Sing to the dying day;
Sing as the gold and purple
Melt into grey.

Sing to the deepening twilight,
Sing to the coming night;
Sing-though it's dark and dreary,
Somewhere there's light.

Sing out, for gloom and blackness
Never for long can last;
Sing for the morn that brightens
When night is past.

All the bright day thou sangest;
Wayfarers paused to hear
Thy full-toned music, ringing
Joyous and clear.

Now, as the tender twilight
Breathes its refreshing balm,
Softly thy low notes mingle
With evening's calm.

So would I sing, sweet birdie,
All through my day of life,
Cheering my heart with music
In toil and strife.

And when at last approaches
Night, the chill night of death,
Still would I spend in singing
My latest breath.

Sing-for I know my spirit
Will not in darkness stay;
Tis but a passage leading
To endless day.

So will the life-long singing
Only the prelude be
To strains which shall ring unceasing
Eternally! J. B.