THE SUN'S DAUGHTER.
A bright drop of water
In the gold tire
Of a sun's daughter
Was laughing to her sire;
And from all the flowers about,
That never toiled or spun,
The soul of each looked out,
Clear laughing to the sun.
I saw them unfolding
Their hearts every one!
Every soul holding
Within it the sun!
But all the sun-mirrors
Vanished anon;
And their flowers, mere starers,
Grew dry in the sun.
"My soul is but water,
Shining and gone!
She is but the daughter,"
I said, "of the sun!"
My soul sat her down
In a deep-shaded gloom;
Her glory was flown,
Her earth was a tomb,
Till night came and caught her,
And then out she shone;
And I knew her no daughter
Of that shining sun—
Till night came down and taught her
Of a glory yet unknown;
And I knew my soul the daughter
Of a sun behind the sun.
Back, back to him that wrought her
My soul shall haste and run;
Straight back to him, his daughter,
To the sun behind the sun.