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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.
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 sun, too, shines into cesspools, and is not polluted.
The sun, too, shines into cesspools, and is not polluted.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun,
Is Nature's eye.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the radiant sun,
Is Nature's eye.
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, which passeth through pollutions and itself remains as
pure as before.
The sun, which passeth through pollutions and itself remains as
pure as before.
Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes
down.
Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes
down.
In climes beyond the solar road.
In climes beyond the solar road.
