Lo in the
orient when the gracious light
Lifts up
his burning head, each under eye
Doth
homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving
with looks his sacred majesty,
And having
climbed the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling
strong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal
looks adore his beauty still,
Attending
on his golden pilgrimage:
But when
from highmost pitch with weary car,
Like
feeble age he reeleth from the day,
The eyes
(fore duteous) now converted are
From his
low tract and look another way:
So thou,
thy self out-going in thy noon:
Unlooked
on diest unless thou get a son.
English Literature
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