Transcription:
2 most glorious of our mountain sunsets. Not one of the assembled mountains seemed remote - all had ceased their labor
of beauty gathered around their Parent Sun to receive the evening blessing waiting angels could not be more solemnly hushed.
The sun himself seemed to have reached a higher life as if he had died only his soul were glowing with rayless bodiless Light,
as Christ to his disciples so this departing Sun-Soul said to every precious beast.-to every pine weed, to every stream mountain,
My Peace I give unto you , I ran home in the moonlight with your sack of roses slung on my shoulder by a buckskin string,
- Down through the junipers - down through 3 the firs - now in black shadow - now in white light, past great South Dome
white as the moon - past Spirit like Nevada- past Pywiack - through the groves of Illilouette spiry pines of the open Valley,
Star- crystals sparking above - frost crystals beneath, rays of spirit beaming everywhere. I reached home a trifle weary but
could have wished so Godful a walk some miles hours longer as I slid your roses off my shoulder I said This is one of the
big round ripe days that so fatten our lives - So much of sun on one side, So much of moon on the other