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In climes beyond the solar road.
In climes beyond the solar road.
Make hay while the sun shines.
Make hay while the sun shines.
Failing yet gracious,
Slow pacing, soon homing,
A patriarch that strolls
Through the tents read more
Failing yet gracious,
Slow pacing, soon homing,
A patriarch that strolls
Through the tents of his children,
The sun as he journeys
His round on the lower
Ascents of the blue,
Washes the roofs
And the hillsides with clarity.
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 gay motes that people the sunbeams.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
Behold him setting in his western skies,
The shadows lengthening as the vapours rise.
Behold him setting in his western skies,
The shadows lengthening as the vapours rise.
High in his chariot glow'd the lamp of day.
High in his chariot glow'd the lamp of day.
The sun, too, shines into cesspools, and is not polluted.
The sun, too, shines into cesspools, and is not polluted.
When the Sun
Clearest shineth
Serenest in the heaven,
Quickly are obscured
read more
When the Sun
Clearest shineth
Serenest in the heaven,
Quickly are obscured
All over the earth
Other stars.
