O Sun,
When crests of hilltops kiss thee,
When your gentle rays are born,
Friend, how often I have missed thee
In the birthing of the morn.
For, quickly roused and quickly fleeing
At the ticking of the clock,
All its whim and wish obeying,
I could not take the time to stop,
To pause - and watch your blood-red nascence,
Brood upon your golden groan,
Contemplate your evanescence,
Sit and think with you alone.
Oft you rise while I am sleeping;
Oft I make my bedward flight
When I, spying rays a-creeping,
Flee to catch a glimpse of night.
The stars - your brothers - rare I see them
And the moon your sister gray.
All the sky spread wide between them
Seldom survey, night or day.
Between the walls I have my living,
Prisoner in brick-built cage,
Run the course so unforgiving -
I will pause in my old age.
Yet while I mark the minutes passing,
Days and years are slipping by.
Shall I then have watched the dayspring
Or the gloaming ere I die?
Ever banking on tomorrow,
Seldom thinking of today,
Breathless, borrowing on sorrow,
Trusting later to repay.
Darkness falls as I am writing;
Once again I miss your light.
Chillèd voice within me, biting:
"Fool! for you shall die tonight."
If so be, my friend, farewell!
If I ascend with heavenly host
Or down with fettered feet to hell,
Know that I shall miss thee most.
Or if I live - God grant it be -
That I shall spend my days with thee.
Reviews
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Charming,
A charming poem. It sounds like something out from Psalms in the Old Testament. I liked how you used the stars and the moon as sisters and brothers of the sun.
I enjoyed this poem.
Bill
. Rewarded 4
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I like traditional forms now and then...
...and I like this one, JQ. It's heartfelt and sensitive, which you nicely managed to control into four-beat lines with alternating rhymes. Really neat.
One of my favorite of old poems is the one by Francis of Assisi in the 13th century: "Brother Sun, Sister Moon." Your poem reminds me of that, but yours has its own unique voice and modern images to praise the Sun - like that 6th stanza.
For me, the best of the stanzas was the 8th:
"...Breathless, borrowing on sorrow,
Trusting later to repay..." - Beautiful. It's a good reminder for me to be grateful to God for the golden Sun, and not to let the busy-ness of my day block it out.
Good poem.
Lad
William McGarvey
March 3, 2007
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