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Description
Sol rises to begin the world.
The trees are here, waiting straight and crooked, knobbed and
Pure, the scholar oaks and the shabby pines.
The flowers open, tiny maids who whisper and gossip
To catch the eyes of a king.
Sol rises to begin the world--
Here, the court is like an eye opened for all to come forth!
Men are rising, women are singing at their lines, children calling to each other!
The tools of life call their masters to come forth and begin the joyful works!
Welcome is the brawler, welcome is the archer,
Welcome the farmer and the braggart and the grinning child,
Welcome are the horses and the playthings and the peasants.

Sol rises to begin the world.
It is Day, time of noise and boisterous play,
Time for laughing and running, the duties of the
Adherents of the Sun.

Sol lingers to let his revelers finish.
He hovers over the earth, above the horizon,
Inches from the end to wait as runners finish races,
Laughters becomes quiet chuckling, and the working farmer slips
Exhausted back into his chair, looking forward to cold sweet tea
And the Queen-
Sol lingers to let his revelers finish.

Sol yields to his Queen without grace-
Grace is not a thing of the sun, for he for the delight
Of his adherents leaves them with fire and color,
The heartening paints- he hires out an army of angels
To paint his path down into his house below the horizon.
Sol yields to his Queen without grace,
But yields with Majesty, the rising completed in setting.

Description
Sol rises to begin the world.
The trees are here, waiting straight and crooked, knobbed and
Pure, the scholar oaks and the shabby pines.
The flowers open, tiny maids who whisper and gossip
To catch the eyes of a king.
Sol rises to begin the world--
Here, the court is like an eye opened for all to come forth!
Men are rising, women are singing at their lines, children calling to each other!
The tools of life call their masters to come forth and begin the joyful works!
Welcome is the brawler, welcome is the archer,
Welcome the farmer and the braggart and the grinning child,
Welcome are the horses and the playthings and the peasants.

Sol rises to begin the world.
It is Day, time of noise and boisterous play,
Time for laughing and running, the duties of the
Adherents of the Sun.

Sol lingers to let his revelers finish.
He hovers over the earth, above the horizon,
Inches from the end to wait as runners finish races,
Laughters becomes quiet chuckling, and the working farmer slips
Exhausted back into his chair, looking forward to cold sweet tea
And the Queen-
Sol lingers to let his revelers finish.

Sol yields to his Queen without grace-
Grace is not a thing of the sun, for he for the delight
Of his adherents leaves them with fire and color,
The heartening paints- he hires out an army of angels
To paint his path down into his house below the horizon.
Sol yields to his Queen without grace,
But yields with Majesty, the rising completed in setting.