SONG OF THE SUN.
Supreme of the sky—no throne so high—
I reign a monarch divine;
What have ye below that doth not owe
Its glory and lustre to mine?
Has Beauty a charm I have not helped.
To nurture in freshness and bloom?
Can a tint be spread—can a glance be shed.
Like those I deign to illume?
Though ye mimic my beams, as ye do and ye will,—
Let all galaxies meet, I am mightiest still!
I reign a monarch divine;
What have ye below that doth not owe
Its glory and lustre to mine?
Has Beauty a charm I have not helped.
To nurture in freshness and bloom?
Can a tint be spread—can a glance be shed.
Like those I deign to illume?
Though ye mimic my beams, as ye do and ye will,—
Let all galaxies meet, I am mightiest still!
The first red ray that heralds my way,
Just kisses the mountain top;
And splendour dwells in the cowslip bells
While I kindle each nectar drop;
I speed on my wide, refulgent path,
And Nature's homage is given;
All tones are pour'd to greet my adored
As I reach the blue mid-heaven,
And the sweetest and boldest, the truly free—
The lark and the eagle come nearest to me.
Just kisses the mountain top;
And splendour dwells in the cowslip bells
While I kindle each nectar drop;
I speed on my wide, refulgent path,
And Nature's homage is given;
All tones are pour'd to greet my adored
As I reach the blue mid-heaven,
And the sweetest and boldest, the truly free—
The lark and the eagle come nearest to me.
The glittering train so praised by man,
The moon, night's worshipp'd queen;
The silvery scud, and the rainbow's span;
Snatch from me their colours and sheen.
The moon, night's worshipp'd queen;
The silvery scud, and the rainbow's span;
Snatch from me their colours and sheen.
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