 | Poems |  |
153
ENVOY
My songs were once of the sunrise:
They shouted it over the bar;
First-footing the dawns, they flourished,
And flamed with the morning star.
They shouted it over the bar;
First-footing the dawns, they flourished,
And flamed with the morning star.
My songs are now of the sunset:
Their brows are touched with light
But their feet are lost in the shadows
And wet with the dews of night.
Their brows are touched with light
But their feet are lost in the shadows
And wet with the dews of night.
Yet for the joy in their making
Take them, O fond and true,
And for his sake who made them
Let them be dear to You.
Take them, O fond and true,
And for his sake who made them
Let them be dear to You.
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