Shine On

	Shine on, O sun! Sing on, O birds of song! And in her light my heart fashions a tune Not wholly sad, most like a tender rune Sung by some knight in days gone overlong,
	When he with minstrel eyes in Syrian grove Looked out towards his England, and then drew From a sweet instrument a sound that grew From twilight unto morning of his love.
	Go, then, beloved, bearing as you go These songs that have more sunlight far than cloud; More summer flowers than dead leaves ‘neath the snow;
	That tell of hopes from which you raised the shroud. My lady, bright benignant star, shine on—
	I lift to thee my low Trisagion!

HE that hath pleasant dreams is more fortunate than one who hath a cup-bearer.
—Egyptian Proverb.