Song Of The Sun

WEARY am I at last! weary am I! Shall the old eons bring me no repose? Oh, in long-promised slumbers once to lie And feel the films of sleep mine eyelids close! Oh, once to lave my burning head in Night-- Blest Night! my planets joy thee--every one! Perish, fatigueless Fire! and thou, O Light! Vanish. Go leave your emperor, your Sun! For I am done with blessings scattered wide Throughout the waste, oppressive Universe, And yonder fading Earth-globe, once my bride, Becomes to me a burden and a curse. No more she smiles for me, no more my rays Urge on her frozen roots to coloured bloom, No clouds enrobe her nakedness--her days, Once golden in the dance, are bent on doom. A loathing throngs the vision, and the face Of Man is stone and ashen, fallen supine. How long with Light and Love I warmed his race! Now iron crowns of Ruin and Death be mine.

The Earth-orb and her four elements are locked in the arms of decay.

She, like a stricken mother, bereaved of all beloved things, calls on the Sun, her primal fount of Life.

The saddest of all her twilights has fallen and is moving on to night.

Life, be it of man, or beast, or flower, is slowly quenched, as a torch is quenched in a midnight lake.

The haunts and habitations of men have vanished; they are not any more. Yet their ruins are heaped with snow that shall know no thawing.

Every hour of Earth is an eon and her day has yet many hours.

Her elements sing each their song. The parent Earth sends forth her cry into the void.