The great sun sinks, and the gray fog heaps
His cloak on the silent sea;
The night-wind creeps where the ocean sleeps,
And the wavelets wake in glee;
Across the bay like a silver star,
There twinkles the harbor-light,
And the faint and far from the outer bar
The sea-birds call “Good- night”
Richie will forever be in our hearts.

Poem titled, At Eventide, by Joseph Lincoln