 | Carmina crucis |  |
93
THE SUN-FLOWER.
Till the slow daylight pale,
A willing slave, fast bound to one above,
I wait; he seems to speed, and change, and fail;
I know he will not move.
A willing slave, fast bound to one above,
I wait; he seems to speed, and change, and fail;
I know he will not move.
I lift my golden orb
To his, unsmitten when the roses die,
And in my broad and burning disk absorb
The splendours of his eye.
To his, unsmitten when the roses die,
And in my broad and burning disk absorb
The splendours of his eye.
His eye is like a clear
Keen flame that searches through me; I must droop
Upon my stalk, I cannot reach his sphere;
To mine he cannot stoop.
Keen flame that searches through me; I must droop
Upon my stalk, I cannot reach his sphere;
To mine he cannot stoop.
94
I win not my desire,
And yet I fail not of my guerdon; lo!
A thousand flickering darts and tongues of fire
Around me spread and glow;
And yet I fail not of my guerdon; lo!
A thousand flickering darts and tongues of fire
Around me spread and glow;
All ray'd and crown'd, I miss
No queenly state until the summer wane,
The hours flit by; none knoweth of my bliss,
And none has guess'd my pain;
No queenly state until the summer wane,
The hours flit by; none knoweth of my bliss,
And none has guess'd my pain;
I follow one above,
I track the shadow of his steps, I grow
Most like to him I love
Of all that shines below.
I track the shadow of his steps, I grow
Most like to him I love
Of all that shines below.
| Carmina crucis | |