Lines to the Sun

Bright regent of ether, Great monarch of day, Whose sceptre of splendour Drives darkness away;

Thou art the restorer Of life on the earth, And givest its beauty Renewal of birth.

From soft dewy slumber, Mid darkness and night, Each flower opes its eyelid To gaze on thy light.

The dew-drops of morning, Which spangle the vale, To honour thy coming As incense exhale.

Gay birds of the woodland Aroused by thy ray, To musical breezes Attune the sweet lay.

The trees of the forest Rejoice in thy beams, That glance like bright silver Along the clear streams.

How splendid all nature Beneath thy glad reign, In light and in glory, O’er land and o’er main.

E’en man, the earth’s ruler, Awaits thy command; His fetters of slumber Are broke by thy hand.

From sleep he ariseth To toil and to care, Till evening’s rich lustre Hath vanished from air.

Yet art thou but agent,— The servant of him Who gave thee thy brightness, And polished thy beam.

Thy glory is darkness; Thy splendour but night; To Him, thy Creator, Who “dwelleth in light.”