Song Of The Sun

EMBATTLED life in living light immerst, I shed the glory of my fatherhood! These shafts shall quell the surgent dark and burst The walls of night that pent my circling brood. Rolled twyfold in each shining cirque and arch, My jewelled court of splendour ring on ring, Salutes me down my firmamental march, Hailing me sire, all-quickener, lord and king! I fling eternal largesses of light And warmth, and wave my torch within the deep,-- Dance! purple planet-children, in my sight Around Creation's golden core! Go sweep Within this blaze of winnowed flames, you sons And daughters wing'd with veils of rain and fire, Hold high your mirrored Moons!--you myrmidons Of meteors robed with flame--you comets dire, Far-wandering lights, go seek my brother spheres And yonder orbs, now basking span on span; And bear me tidings if their ripened years Have made them joyous with the face of Man.

Emblazoned with crests of lustre like the Sun, the Earth-orb wanders singing through her rounds.

She flings her arms and tresses of Fire to the stars, a maenad in the planetary dance.

The cold voids of hungry space drink up her ardours. She glows redly; the Fires retreat into her heart and her form is clothed with lava as with the Sea. Now is she muffled in her new-born clouds and the rains struggle through her fervent Airs.

She floats, a watery globe, in the face of the Sun.

She urges up her writhing continents that smoke high unto Heaven.

And they grow green as her Seas are green. The Winds are in her hair, the Sun dowers her with riches as a bride, the Waters lace her robes with silver cords.

The tributary seasons begin their march, laden with store of beauty.

The stately sphere lifts up her chant, measured unto her dance in majestic tides of rhythm: