BALLAD OF THE SUN

O well for him that loves the sun

That sees the heaven-race ridden or run,

The splashing seas of sunset won,

And shouts for victory.

God made the sun to crown his head,

And when death's dart at last is sped,

At least it will not find him dead,

And pass the carrion by.

O ill for him that loves the sun;

Shall the sun stoop for anyone?

Shall the sun weep for hearts undone

Or heavy souls that pray?

Not less for us and everyone

Was that white web of splendour spun;

O well for him who loves the sun

Although the sun should slay.