Of ruby is yon azure dome, not made
Of air and water, dust and smoke; 'tis all
With lamp and torch in many a spot arrayed
Like gardens for the New Year's festival.
Within the dome a gladdening Gem behold
Revolving; thence the light of day is spread,
And every morning like a shield of gold
It raiseth from the East its shining head;
The earth is clad in robes of spreading light,
The sun declineth and there cometh night;
Day ne'er o'ertaketh night, nor night the day,
Most regular in all their movements they.
O thou my Sun! hast thou for me no ray?