Sonnet of the Sun
Then resonates the regal Sun; it dawns
Sweet, brushing bright amber on the canvas
That had rested in a black cloud of ash
Before the coming of the mighty morn.
Soft, not devious, light of the future
Hours and minutes and seconds wherein
Bright glows in the morning, noon and evening
With the comforting of a blessing pure.
A wilful warmth upon the fields below
That rest with the corn upon their soil; that drenched
In the rays of the sunlight feel no woe.
And the freedom of the pleasure's not fenced
Within the shadow of a lingering cloud,
That shan't with sorrow's spite a sunset shroud.
© Cecil Field
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| Knight of the Sun - Arthur Hughes |
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