Such words fall to often on our cold and careless ears with the
triteness of long familiarity; but to read more

Such words fall to often on our cold and careless ears with the
triteness of long familiarity; but to Octavia . . . they seemed
to be written in sunbeams.

See the gold sunshine patching,
And streaming and streaking across
The gray-green oaks; and catching,
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See the gold sunshine patching,
And streaming and streaking across
The gray-green oaks; and catching,
By its soft brown beard, the moss.

Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
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Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
At morning hours,
Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.

Let others hail the rising sun:
I bow to that whose course is run.

Let others hail the rising sun:
I bow to that whose course is run.

The sun, centre and sire of light,
The keystone of the world-built arch of heaven.

The sun, centre and sire of light,
The keystone of the world-built arch of heaven.

The sun shineth upon the dunghill and is not corrupted.

The sun shineth upon the dunghill and is not corrupted.

See the sun!
God's crest upon His azure shield, the Heavens.

See the sun!
God's crest upon His azure shield, the Heavens.

The great duties of life are written with a sunbeam.

The great duties of life are written with a sunbeam.

Out of the solar walk and Heaven's highway.

Out of the solar walk and Heaven's highway.