The speaker comes home to St. Louis at sunset after being in far-off places, and the city appears hushed and dreamlike in the smoky summer haze. The mood is quiet, tender, and a little nostalgic. The river seems to rest as it takes on evening colors—tawny gold, mauve, and misted turquoise—beneath dark bridges. Water towers and steeples catch the last fiery light, old warehouses cast purple shadows across the levee, and a black train sweeps high overhead, leaving moored wharf-boats and old side-wheelers resting in twilight below. There is real affection in the speaker’s gaze, as if returning home has made the familiar city feel newly beautiful. The place is both industrial and dreamy, full of bridges, trains, and warehouses, yet softened by dusk into something almost magical and still.
Sunset: St. Louis — Summary
Hushed in the smoky haze of summer sunset, When I came home again from far-off places, How many times I saw my western city Dream by her river.
Then for an hour the water wore a mantle Of tawny gold and mauve and misted turquoise Under the tall and darkened arches bearing Gray, high-flung bridges.
Against the sunset, water-towers and steeples Flickered with fire up the slope to westward, And old warehouses poured their purple shadows Across the levee.
High over them the black train swept with thunder, Cleaving the city, leaving far beneath it Wharf-boats moored beside the old side-wheelers Resting in twilight.