The fair sky-born children since, ever in turn,
Have failed not to do as Allnither hath bidden ;
At dawn, heaven and earth in the new glory burn —
At evening, the red blaze is carefully hidden.
When Nature, grown drowsy and chill, seeketh rest,
The torch for long hours in deep darkness reposes ;
For early its beam goeth out in the West,
And late in the East, Morn's cold eyelid uncloses.
When Spring's breath requickens each life-gifted thing,
And Summer hath need of the days long and sunny,
Her flowers and her fruits to perfection to bring,
Ripe cherries for robins, for bees the sweet honey —
Then early and late stands the Sun in the skies,
Still pouring his warm rays on meadow and river ; —
To paint rose and lily with loveliest dyes,
And gild the bright cornfield, he wearieth never.