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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.
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.
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.
Out of the solar walk and Heaven's highway.
Out of the solar walk and Heaven's highway.
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.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
The gay motes that people the sunbeams.
In climes beyond the solar road.
In climes beyond the solar road.
Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes
down.
Pleasantly, between the pelting showers, the sunshine gushes
down.
When the sun sets, shadows, that showed at noon
But small, appear most long and terrible.
When the sun sets, shadows, that showed at noon
But small, appear most long and terrible.
