Ode to the Virginian Sun
O beauty of the world in the early morn,
Thou golden ray that paint’st the earth with calm,
Eludes my fainting sight, my reason torn
By tempests that confound, and wrap in qualm.

When the soft night descends, and shadows fall,
Bringing sweet sleep to every browsèd head,
Thy gentle light appears, like silver thrall,
A soothing balm on weary ways we tread.

In thee I feel each rustle of the trees,
The whisper of the grass, the bubbling brook,
The songs of birds that dance upon the breeze,
The life that stirs beneath the shaded nook.

Oh, radiant Sun, my soul doth long for thee,
To cast away the veils of night that blind;
A beacon bright, thou art eternity,
The warmth that comforts all the grief of mankind.

• Richard Crashaw