Book 3 — "The Woods That Bring the Sunset Near."

The wind from out the west is blowing, The homeward-wandering cows are lowing, Dark grow the pine-woods, dark and drear,— The woods that bring the sunset near. When o'er wide seas the sun declines, Far off its fading glory shines, Far off, sublime, and full of fear,— The pine-woods bring the sunset near. This house that looks to east, to west, This, dear one, is our home, our rest; Yonder the stormy sea, and here The woods that bring the sunset near.