Bob-Thin Or the poorhouse fugitive: By W. J. Linton: Illustrated by T. Sibson-- W. B. Scott-- E. Duncan-- W. J. Linton |
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HYMN TO THE SUN. |
 | Bob-Thin |  |
22
HYMN TO THE SUN.
Thou, whose shadow is forethrown
To blushing clouds that scarce have ceased
Dreaming of thy “good-night” tone;
Early kisser of the East—
Which the lark, thy trumpeter,
To the noon-sky telleth blithely:
We, as earlily astir,
Welcome thine uprising, lithely!
Hail! all hail!
To blushing clouds that scarce have ceased
Dreaming of thy “good-night” tone;
Early kisser of the East—
Which the lark, thy trumpeter,
To the noon-sky telleth blithely:
We, as earlily astir,
Welcome thine uprising, lithely!
Hail! all hail!
Thou, whose radiant visage peereth
Through yon grey hill's golden hair—
Round thee flung as if to hold thee
Ever throned and smiling there—
Haste! the lowly would behold thee;
Thou, whose fervent beauty weareth
Silvery ether as a veil,
Haste! the innermost stream must fold thee!
Hail! all hail!
Through yon grey hill's golden hair—
Round thee flung as if to hold thee
Ever throned and smiling there—
Haste! the lowly would behold thee;
Thou, whose fervent beauty weareth
Silvery ether as a veil,
Haste! the innermost stream must fold thee!
Hail! all hail!
Hail! thou rejoicing witnesser
Of human joy; swarth vine-dresser
Of joyance, whose ripe fruitage blesses
Earth's secretest recesses,—
Hailing thy glances unashamed,
As we now greet thee: hasten,
Lest the purple hours be blamed!
With zealous care we fasten
Thy many-color'd sandals on;
Earth panteth for thee. Beauty must be won!
Hail to thee! hail! all hail!
Of human joy; swarth vine-dresser
Of joyance, whose ripe fruitage blesses
Earth's secretest recesses,—
Hailing thy glances unashamed,
As we now greet thee: hasten,
Lest the purple hours be blamed!
With zealous care we fasten
Thy many-color'd sandals on;
Earth panteth for thee. Beauty must be won!
Hail to thee! hail! all hail!
| Bob-Thin | |