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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.
High in his chariot glow'd the lamp of day.
High in his chariot glow'd the lamp of day.
If you want a place in the sun, you've got to put up with a few blisters.
If you want a place in the sun, you've got to put up with a few blisters.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
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.
Whence are thy beams, O sun! thy everlasting light? Thou comest
forth, in thy awful beauty; the stars hide read more
Whence are thy beams, O sun! thy everlasting light? Thou comest
forth, in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky;
the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western waves. But thou,
thyself, movest alone.
Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of the
morning.
Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of the
morning.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun,
Is Nature's eye.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun,
Is Nature's eye.
