Hymn To The Sun

by Thomas Hood

Giver of glowing light!
Though but a god of other days,
The kings and sages.
Of wiser ages
Still live and gladden in thy genial rays.

King of the tuneful lyre,
Still poets' hymns to, thee belong;
Though lips are cold
Whereon of old,
Thy beams all turned to worshipping and song!

Lord of the dreadful bow,
None triumph now for Python's death;
But thou dost save
From hungry grave
The life that hangs upon a summer breath.

Father of rosy day,
No more thy clouds of incense rise;
But waking flowers
At morning hours
Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.

God of the Delphic fane,
No more thou listenest to hymns sublime;
But they will leave
On winds at eve
A solemn echo to the end of time.