Thomas Hood

Hymn to the Sun

    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 
    King of the tuneful lyre, 
Still poets' hymns to thee belong; 
       Though lips are cold 
       Whereon of old 
Thy beams all turn'd to worshipping 
          and song! 
    Lord of the dreadful bow, 
None triumph now for Python's 
    But thou dost save 
    From hungry grave 
The life that hangs upon a summer 
    Father of rosy day, 
No more thy clouds of incense rise; 
       But waking flow'rs 
       At morning hours, 
Give out their sweets to meet thee in 
          the skies. 
    God of the Delphic fame, 
No more thou listenest to hymns sub-
       But they will leave 
       On winds at eve, 
A solemn echo to the end of time.