There lived a Parsee from whose hat the rays of the sun were reflected in more-than-oriental splendour.1902 Just So Stories,'How the Rhinoceros Got His Skin'.
The sun had long since in the lap Of Thetis taken out his nap, And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn From black to red began to turn.Samuel Butler, Hudibras, Part II (1664), Canto II, line 29.
Teach us delight in simple things And mirth that has no bitter springs; Forgiveness free of evil done, And love to all men 'neath the sun!1906 Puck of Pook's Hill,'Children's Song'.
Often, very often, I am alone. My studio in Amsterdam, (Beckmann lived in the center of Amsterdam during World War 2.) an enormous old tobacco storeroom is again filled in my imagination with figures from the old days and from the new, like an ocean moved by storm and sun and always present in my thoughts. Then shapes become beings and seem comprehensible to me in the great void and uncertainty of the space which I call god.max beckmann
Icarus flew too close to the sun.Daedulus and Icarus
Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadow’d livery of the burnish’d sun.Prince of Morocco, scene i
Of all the trees that grow so fair, Old England to adorn, Greater are none beneath the sun, Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn.1906 Puck of Pook's Hill,'Tree Song'.
The Spanish voyager, as his caravel ploughed the adjacent seas, might give full scope to his imagination, and dream that beyond the long, low margin of forest which bounded his horizon lay hid a rich harvest for some future conqueror; perhaps a second Mexico with its royal palace and sacred pyramids, or another Cuzco with its temple of the sun, encircled with a frieze of gold. Haunted by such visions, the ocean chivalry of Spain could not long stand idle.francis parkman
I thought of London spread out in the sun, Its postal districts packed like squares of wheat.1964 'The Whitsun Weddings'.
When the flush of a new-born sun fell first on Eden's green and gold, Our father Adam sat under the Tree and scratched with a stick in the mould; And the first rude sketch that the world had seen was joy to his mighty heart, Till the Devil whispered behind the leaves, “It's pretty, but is it Art?”rudyard kipling