Daughter of the Sun
R. Boughton
Thou art the Daughter of the Sun,
Alona!
Even as the sun in a green place,
The light that is upon thy face!
When thou art gone there is dusk on my ways,
Alona!
Thy soul is of sun-fire wrought in clay,
Alona,
The white warm clay that hath for name,
Alona -- and for word of fame,
Eilidh -- and is for me a Flame
To burn against the Eternal Day,
Alona!
The hills know thee, and the green woods,
Alona,
And the wide sea, and the blue loch, and the stream:
On thy brow, Daughter of the Sun, is agleam
The mystery of Dream, --
Alona!
The fires of the sun that burn thee,
Alona,
O, heart of my heart, are in me!
Thy fire burns, thy flame killeth, thy sea
Of light blazeth continually --
Is there no rest in joy, no rest, no rest for me
Whom rapture slayeth utterly,
Alona, Alona!