 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
206
The Spheres
The brightness round the rising sun,
It shall be thine if thou wilt rise;
Thou too hast thine own race to run,
And pour thy light on waiting eyes.
It shall be thine if thou wilt rise;
Thou too hast thine own race to run,
And pour thy light on waiting eyes.
The expectant millions eager turn,
Oft when thy coming streaks the east;
And ask when shall his glory burn,
Aloft to mid-day's light increased.
Oft when thy coming streaks the east;
And ask when shall his glory burn,
Aloft to mid-day's light increased.
And star on star when thine has lit
The o'erhanging dome of earth's wide heaven,
Shall rise, for as by Him 'tis writ,
Who to each sun its path has given.
The o'erhanging dome of earth's wide heaven,
Shall rise, for as by Him 'tis writ,
Who to each sun its path has given.
And all with thine, each wheeling sphere
In ways harmonious on shall move;
Tracing with golden bounds the year
Of the Great Parent's endless love.
In ways harmonious on shall move;
Tracing with golden bounds the year
Of the Great Parent's endless love.
Poem No. 471; late 1839—early 1840
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