Sun Songs -- Three Micro-Operas

To interrupt His Yellow Plan
The Sun does not allow
Caprices of the Atmosphere --
And even when the Snow

Heaves Balls of Specks, like Vicious Boy
Directly in His Eye --
Does not so much as turn His Head
Busy with Majesty --

'Tis His to stimulate the Earth --
And magnetize the Sea --
And bind Astronomy, in place,
Yet Any passing by

Would deem Ourselves -- the busier
As the Minutest Bee
That rides -- emits a Thunder --
A Bomb -- to justify --

Superfluous were the Sun
When Excellence be dead
He were superfluous every Day
For every Day be said

That syllable whose Faith
Just saves it from Despair
And whose "I'll meet You" hesitates
If Love inquire "Where"?

Upon His dateless Fame
Our Periods may lie
As Stars that drop anonymous
From an abundant sky.

It rises -- passes -- on our South
Inscribes a simple Noon  --
Cajoles a Moment with the Spires
And infinite is gone --