Edward Webb - Days

The sun sets its cycle., a misguides perception,
There is no true edge,
For is there really a morning?
and What is a night I; pledge!
But stationed eyes still,
passes past from sight, behind a western way,
yet every moment that earth sits
Contains light of day, and the dark of night
and every setting hill on a westward sight.

Edward Webb

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/days-61/