Magnificat is upborne
on the breath of his desire.

Triumphant rolls his paean. He casts from him his tempests of solar
melody, vibrant and far-winged.

SONG OF THE SUN

EMBATTLED life in living light immerst,
I shed the glory of my fatherhood!
These shafts shall quell the surgent dark and burst
The walls of night that pent my circling brood.
Rolled twyfold in each shining cirque and arch,
My jewelled court of splendour ring on ring,
Salutes me down my firmamental march,
Hailing me sire, all-quickener, lord and king!
I fling eternal largesses of light
And warmth, and wave my torch within the deep,--
Dance! purple planet-children, in my sight
Around Creation's golden core! Go sweep
Within this blaze of winnowed flames, you sons
And daughters wing'd with veils of rain and fire,
Hold high your mirrored Moons!--you myrmidons
Of meteors robed with flame--you comets dire,
Far-wandering lights, go seek my brother spheres
And yonder orbs, now basking span on span;
And bear me tidings if their ripened years
Have made them joyous with the face of Man.

Emblazoned with crests of lustre like the Sun, the Earth-orb wanders
singing through her rounds.

She flings her arms and tresses of Fire to the stars, a maenad in
the planetary dance.

The cold voids of hungry space drink up her ardours. She glows redly;
the Fires retreat into her heart and her form is clothed with lava
as with the Sea. Now is she muffled in her new-born clouds and the
rains struggle through her fervent Airs.

She floats, a watery globe, in the face of the Sun.

She urges up her writhing continents that smoke high unto Heaven.

And they grow green as her Seas are green. The Winds are in her
hair, the Sun dowers her with riches as a bride, the Waters lace her
robes with silver cords.

The tributary seasons begin their march, laden with store of beauty.

The stately sphere lifts up her chant, measured unto her dance in
majestic tides of rhythm:

SONG OF THE PLANET EARTH

Again before thee winding, O Sun, at length,--
At length, thou call'st me from the wintry deep!
With cornucopian Fire thou giv'st me strength,
Caresses and golden hours and grace of sleep.
My filial song I weave with theirs who roll
Afar or close, past thy celestial face,
My sister lamps that o'er the Zodiac's scroll
From fane to fane in adoration pace.
The rapt Equator's crimson cincture holds
Me close; m