I love the end of day
When the evening falls,
And the resting sun
Skims the rim of the hill,
Sending grey shadows
To meet the gentle dusk.

The miles are ended and
The contours climbed;
Only the leaf-mould now,
Soft on the kindly path.
Ahead, beyond the turn,
Voices drift on the air.
All is contentment.

And if, at the end of day,
The distance covered and
The challenge of the climb
Discharged with honour,
I plot a gentle path
Among the psalmist’s hills,
The sunlight beckoning
Beyond the shadows,
I shall go home content.