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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.
She stood breast-high amid the corn,
Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of read more
She stood breast-high amid the corn,
Clasp'd by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.
High in his chariot glow'd the lamp of day.
High in his chariot glow'd the lamp of day.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
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.
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.
Trees go wandering forth in all directions with every wind, going and coming like ourselves, traveling with us around the read more
Trees go wandering forth in all directions with every wind, going and coming like ourselves, traveling with us around the sun two million miles a day, and through space heaven knows how fast and far!
The sun shineth upon the dunghill and is not corrupted.
The sun shineth upon the dunghill and is not corrupted.
Make hay while the sun shines.
Make hay while the sun shines.
