Classic Poem

My chariot-team, whirled on by flaming wings,
Beats the dawn-vapor into flakes of fire;
My rays made Memnon murmur as a lyre:
Barbarian hosts and their imperious Kings
Knelt by mine altars with burnt-offerings:
Shrouded in scarlet and in gold attire
Each eve I perish on my sumptuous pyre,
Yet every morn my bright renascence brings.
Innumerous orbs illume the rolling Earth
When I, at dusk, withdraw from view of men,
But star and planet never meet my sight:
I am that Splendor of primeval birth
Which flushed the yawn of Chaos, and since then
For me—till systems crash—there is no Night.