Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/96

 Reveals the subtle secret of her bosom, Pours from a crystal urn Heavenly hues love-born, Till Day's archangel, pulsing radiancy, Swiftly emerging from the deep's grey pall, A flower of fire ascends, and floating free, Winged with intolerable splendour, soars imperially! Then all the vibrant ocean blazeth, And his grand blinding glory praiseth.

But thou, O Sun! dost never die, Nor ascend on high! Earth, whene'er she turns away, Deems there is a death of Day.

Herbs wake to fragrance; flowers from soft dream; A myriad hearts pour forth their orison At thy sublime epiphany, O solemn-soaring Sun! Yet thou, fair Light Supreme, To these who feel thy beam, Art but a moon-pale shadow of the Eternal One! Thou mighty living Soul, in whom we live and move, Feedest upon the fire divine of spiritual Love.

NOON. Now at full noon a silver silence reigns; The pines are fragrant, and the mountain thyme;