Ah, lately lucid yellow Sun,
alleluia is your song;
a low and lively air you sing.
Allow a lesser bard to praise
your hallowed light, your holy ray,
and let with love your splendor shine
on lilting linnet's psalm of day.
Though lowly, I will learn the tune;
though little, I will leap in voice,
and, loud and lofty, I will verse
a sounding alleluia.
The impossibly desired
is the fountain of despair,
formed with frame of fire
and perilously fair.
Who ascends to touch the sun
will perish on that stair;
by light on light will be undone,
by perilously fair.
Some glory only stands alone;
it is not ours to share.
Splendor's splendor is not our own,
so perilously fair;
our human hands can never hold,
guarded, must then beware
never to be over-bold
with the perilously fair.