Hues of a Winter Sunset


The view from the school room this evening

O contemplate the heavens! When as the vein-drawn day dies pale, 
In every season, every place, gaze through their every veil? 
With love that has not speech for need! 
Beneath their solemn beauty is a mystery infinite: 
If winter hue them like a pall, or if the summer night 
Fantasy them starre brede.

-Victor Hugo 





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