There is one planet which the Sun
Must love, or shuddering shun,
For when his rays its sides do strike
His rays flash back from eyes,
From eyes that watch him rise.
The eyes of girls, boys, dogs, and cats,
Of the wildcat in her thicket,
Of the galloping horse and the field mouse
And the glittering wind-eyes of church & house;
Eyes like dew, like jewels
Strewn on the shores of the world
Watching all the renewals
Of gold and light upon earth.
No other planet that he knows
Wears such gems, or blows
Such bells, cockcrows and clocks,
Such whistles, shouts, and cries,
Exactly according his progress
Up and down their skies.
No other place dies by him so,
Nor smiles when he melts their snow,
Nor admires and paints his sunsets.
Sunsets he never sees,
Nor in lamps and electric plates
So remembers and stores
His golden velocities.
Yes, he must laugh or sigh
That his yellow looks, his golden crop
Caught in our atmospheric hand
Should give such force, such life and love
As he cannot understand.
Such force, such life and love as make him sigh
That they are Sun and he is eye.