ENVOY

My songs were once of the sunrise:

They shouted it over the bar;

First-footing the dawns, they flourished,

And flamed with the morning star.

My songs are now of the sunset:

Their brows are touched with light,

But their feet are lost in the shadows

And wet with the dews of night.

Yet for the joy in their making

Take them, O fond and true,

And for his sake who made them

Let them be dear to You.