Frederick George Scott
Sunrise - Poem by Frederick George Scott
O rising Sun, so fair and gay,
What are you bringing me, I pray,
Of sorrow or of joy to-day?
You look as if you meant to please,
Reclining in your gorgeous ease
Behind the bare-branched apple-trees.
The world is rich and bright, as though
The pillows where your head is low
Had lit the fields of driven snow.
The hoar-frost on the window turns
Into a wood of giant ferns
Where some great conflagration burns.
And all my children comes again
As lightsome and as free from stain
As those frost-pictures on the pane.
I would that I could mount on high
And meet you, Sun--that you and I
Had to ourselves the whole wide sky.
But here my poor soul has to stay,
So tell me, rising Sun, I pray,
What are you bringing me to-day?
What shall this busy brain have thought,
What shall these hands and feet have wrought,
What sorrows shall the hours have brought,
Before thy brilliant course is run,
Before this new-born day is done,
Before you set, O rising Sun?
Comments about Sunrise by Frederick George Scott
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You