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.

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.

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.

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.

See the gold sunshine patching,
And streaming and streaking across
The gray-green oaks; and catching,
read more

See the gold sunshine patching,
And streaming and streaking across
The gray-green oaks; and catching,
By its soft brown beard, the moss.

The sun, too, shines into cesspools, and is not polluted.

The sun, too, shines into cesspools, and is not polluted.

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.

Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
read more

Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flow'rs,
At morning hours,
Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.