From The Topeka State Journal, January 15, 1915. By Eva Dean.
The Sunset donned a shining robe;
“Who else is clothed as well as I?”
She proudly thought. “I always wear
The latest colors of the sky.”
She glanced down at the quiet earth,
So gravely garbed in green and brown,
And saw the saucy River there,
Clad in a copy of her gown.
Indignantly her cloudy scarf
She flung aside, so all could see
The splendor of her glowing gold
And ruby bordered drapery.
But straightway, from her bed below,
The laughing River flaunted wide
A garment quite as elegant,
Spread broadly on her flowing tide.
The angry Sunset, mortified,
Flushed crimson with embarrassment,
But down below the River mocked,
Still shamelessly impertinent.
Then, purple in her stately rage,
The Sunset’s glowing visage grew;
And straight, the River’s dimpled face
Took on an angry purple, too!
No more could any Sunset stand.
She dropped her veil of midnight blue;
But first she pricked some holes therein
To watch the flippant River through.
The River saw the tiny holes
With their escaping beams so bright,
And scattered o’er her dancing waves
As many a taunting, twinkling light.
So they contend, as they have done,
For ages more than man has known—
Wee little man, who, down below,
Thinks all life’s conflicts are his own!
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