First published at 00:51 UTC on July 22nd, 2019.
Thee I hail in my song,
Proud, far-glittering Sun!
Round the imperial throne,
Where thou sittest alone,
Worlds, thy worshippers, run.
Deep in desolate night
Go the suppliant throng;
But thy path is in light.
See, Nature is dead;
Night, the phantom's f…
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Thee I hail in my song,
Proud, far-glittering Sun!
Round the imperial throne,
Where thou sittest alone,
Worlds, thy worshippers, run.
Deep in desolate night
Go the suppliant throng;
But thy path is in light.
See, Nature is dead;
Night, the phantom's friend,
On her bleak magnificence
Has laid his pall.
Many a night-lamp looks
Down into the house of sorrow.
But thou risest again
Out of the East in a glow;
Like a rose out of its bud
Grows up creation.
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