Of dazzling gold is the great Sun- Bee
That shall flash from the hive-hole over the sea.
Yet now the dewdrop, now the morning gray,
Shall live their little lucid sober day
Ere with the sun their souls exhale avay.
Now in each pettiest personal sphere of dew
The summ d morn shines complete as in the blue
Big dewdrop of all heaven: with these lit shrines
O er-silvered to the farthest sea-confines,
The sacramental marsh one pious plain
Of worship lies. Peace to the ante-reign
Of Mary Morning, blissful mother mild,
Minded of nought but peace, and of a child.
Not slower than Majesty moves, for a mean and a measure
Of motion, not faster than dateless Olympian leisure
Might pace with unblown ample garments from pleasure to
pleasure,
The; wave-serrate sea-rim sinks unjarring, unreeling,
Forever revealing, revealing, revealing,
Edgewise, bladewise, halfwise, wholewise,? t is done!
Good-morrow, lord Sun!
With several voice, with ascription one,
The woods and the marsh and the sea and my soul
Unto thee, whence the glittering stream of all morrows doth roll,
Cry good and past-good and most heavenly morrow, lord Sun.
O Artisan born in the purple, Workman Heat,
Parter of passionate atoms that travail to meet
And be mixed in the death-cold oneness, innermost Guest
At the marriage of elements, fellow 7 of publicans, blest
King in the blouse of flame, that loiterest o er
The idle skies, yet laborest fast evermore,
Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/445
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SIDNEY LANIER
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