The embers of the day are red
Beyond the murky hill.
The kitchen smokes: the bed In the darkling house is spread: The great sky darkens overhead, And the great woods are shrill. So far have I been led, Lord, by Thy will: So far I have followed, Lord, and wondered still. The breeze from the enbalmed land Blows sudden toward the shore, And claps my cottage door. I hear the signal, Lord - I understand. The night at Thy command Comes. I will eat and sleep and will not question more.
 
By Robert Louis Stevenson.