 | English Roses |  |
350
THE SUN.
Old pilgrim, architekton Sun,
Rejoicing in thy strength to run
That awful path of light and wrath,
Since first the rolling earth begun!
Ah, in that early cloud of fire,
At once thy glory and attire,
Was surely hid though tempest-rid
The pulse of every pure desire;
And this great Love, my Master's seat
Built up of tears and flame and laughter,
Felt in thee dim its primal beat—
To make and break the worlds hereafter.
Rejoicing in thy strength to run
That awful path of light and wrath,
Since first the rolling earth begun!
Ah, in that early cloud of fire,
At once thy glory and attire,
Was surely hid though tempest-rid
The pulse of every pure desire;
And this great Love, my Master's seat
Built up of tears and flame and laughter,
Felt in thee dim its primal beat—
To make and break the worlds hereafter.
The earth a thousand shapes has seen
Ere putting on its garment green,
And tide and storm the stately form
Rocked out of shadow into sheen.
But where was erst the burning belt
And raging forces darkly dwelt,
Or waters' waste made dreadful haste,
Men long in cloisters calm have knelt.
And in thy mighty mirror glassed,
As thou did'st urge those endless travels,
The generations rose and passed
Mocked by thee for their idle ravels.
Ere putting on its garment green,
And tide and storm the stately form
Rocked out of shadow into sheen.
But where was erst the burning belt
And raging forces darkly dwelt,
Or waters' waste made dreadful haste,
Men long in cloisters calm have knelt.
And in thy mighty mirror glassed,
As thou did'st urge those endless travels,
The generations rose and passed
Mocked by thee for their idle ravels.
But I if weak am older far
Than thou or any orb or star,
And was a thing past reckoning
Before Creation owned its bar.
My soul was ancient and yet young
When fierce that fiery torch was swung,
A sweltering globe of ruddy robe,
And to its measured pathway clung.
In thee I only changed my lot
And stooped to tread on humbler stages,
I flourished fair when thou wast not
And lived with God for countless ages.
Than thou or any orb or star,
And was a thing past reckoning
Before Creation owned its bar.
My soul was ancient and yet young
When fierce that fiery torch was swung,
A sweltering globe of ruddy robe,
And to its measured pathway clung.
In thee I only changed my lot
And stooped to tread on humbler stages,
I flourished fair when thou wast not
And lived with God for countless ages.
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And I possess, what none can give
Those rays that must for œons live,
My lamp shall shine in bliss Divine
When thou art pale and fugitive.
Though bright thy ministry and vast,
Appointed is its bound at last;
And thy sere grace and sickening face,
Some day with fear will overcast.
And when all crushed by conquering ill
Thou dost for ever veil thy flashes,
I shall be prouder fresher still
And bend in pity on thy ashes.
Those rays that must for œons live,
My lamp shall shine in bliss Divine
When thou art pale and fugitive.
Though bright thy ministry and vast,
Appointed is its bound at last;
And thy sere grace and sickening face,
Some day with fear will overcast.
And when all crushed by conquering ill
Thou dost for ever veil thy flashes,
I shall be prouder fresher still
And bend in pity on thy ashes.
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