Classic Poem

He where the great sun looks his last
Seems speaking of the mythic past
Was it in penance for some foul wrong
That baked into blackness he lay so long?

Penance for some obstructing weight
He cast in the way of the human fate
That he who fed on all beams that breathe
Should shadow all things underneath.

Penance that to us he pays
Still & in a thousand ways
But now if a stave he is still a friend
And will be so until the end
And he will work with all his powers
To warm the hearth & wing the hours.