Sun, Sunrise and Sunset

O sun! Burn the great sphere thou mov’st in; darkling stand The varying shore o’ the world.

Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, Towards Phoebus’ lodging.

Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple Leaping like Leopards to the Sky… And the Juggler of Day is gone.

In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly,

The variety of color in objects cannot be discerned at a great distance, excepting in those parts which are directly lighted up by the solar rays.

But, look, the morn in russet mantle clad, Walks o’er the dew of yon high eastern hill.

Busy old fool, unruly Sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curtains call on us? Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run?

Rosy-fingered dawn.

Up roos the sonne, and up roose Emelye.

Forward, I pray, since we have come so far, And be it moon, or sun, or what you please. And if you please to call it a rush-candle, Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.

And the gilded car of day, His glowing axle doth allay In the steep Atlantic stream.

Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops.

The glowworm shows the matin to be near, And ’gins to pale his uneffectual fire.

So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,