Dark hills at evening in the west, 
Where sunset hovers like a sound 
Of golden horns that sang to rest 
Old bones of warriors under ground, 
Far now from all the bannered ways 
Where flash the legions of the sun, 
You fade--as if the last of days 
Were fading, and all wars were done. 

Poet: Edwin Arlington Robinson
Poem: The Dark Hills
Poem of the Day: Nov 25 2005

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