Hymn to the Sun
Giver of glowing light!Though but a god of other days,The kings and sagesOf wiser agesStill live and gladden in thy genial rays!
King of the tuneful lyre,Still poets' hymns to thee belong;Though lips are coldWhereon of oldThy beams all turn'd to worshipping and song!
Lord of the dreadful bow,None triumph now for Python's death;But thou dost saveFrom hungry graveThe life that hangs upon a summer breath.
Father of rosy day,No more thy clouds of incense rise;But waking flow'rsAt morning hours,Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.
God of the Delphic fame,No more thou listenest to hymns sublime;But they will leaveOn winds at eve,A solemn echo to the end of time.
Words in this poem
- giver n.
- One who gives; a donor; a bestower; a grantor; one who imparts or distributes.
- gladden v. t.
- To make glad; to cheer; to please; to gratify; to rejoice; to exhilarate. [See Glad, v. t.]
- genial a.
- Contributing to, or concerned in, propagation or production; generative; procreative; productive. [L. genialis: cf. OF. genial. See Genius.]
- tuneful a.
- Harmonious; melodious; musical; as, tuneful notes.
- whereon adv.
- On which; -- used relatively; as, the earth whereon we live.
- dreadful a.
- Full of dread or terror; fearful.
- delphic a.
- Of or relating to Delphi, or to the famous oracle of that place. [L. Delphicus, fr. Gr. Delphi, a town of Phocis, in Greece, now Kastri.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Hymn to the Sun is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood, Project Gutenberg ebook #15652; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Thomas Hood, Hymn to the Sun, in The Song of the Shirt, and Other Poems (1826–1845), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #15652, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hood-poetical-works/hymn-to-the-sun.html, id L20049.
Form and metre
Hymn to the Sun is 25 lines in 5 stanzas of 5 lines each. This poem did not settle on a metre of its own; the book it comes from is in iambic pentameter.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 -ABBA light · daysA · sagesB · agesB · raysA
- 2 -ABBA lyre · belongA · coldB · oldB · songA
- 3 -ABBA bow · deathA · saveB · graveB · breathA
- 4 -A-AA day · riseA · flow'rs · hoursA · skiesA
- 5 -ABBA fame · sublimeA · leaveB · eveB · timeA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Giver of glowing light! | 6 | /˘·/˘· |
| Though but a god of other days, | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| The kings and sages | 5 | ···/˘ |
| Of wiser ages | 5 | ·/˘/˘ |
| Still live and gladden in thy genial rays! | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| King of the tuneful lyre, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Still poets' hymns to thee belong; | 8 | ·/˘···˘/ |
| Though lips are cold | 4 | ···· |
| Whereon of old | 4 | ˘/·· |
| Thy beams all turn'd to worshipping and song! | 10 | ·····/˘˘·· |
| Lord of the dreadful bow, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| None triumph now for Python's death; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| But thou dost save | 4 | ···· |
| From hungry grave | 4 | ·/˘· |
| The life that hangs upon a summer breath. | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Father of rosy day, | 6 | /˘·/˘· |
| No more thy clouds of incense rise; | 8 | ·····˘/· |
| But waking flow'rs | 4 | ·/˘· |
| At morning hours, | 5 | ·/˘/˘ |
| Give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies. | 10 | ·········· |
| God of the Delphic fame, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| No more thou listenest to hymns sublime; | 10 | ···/˘˘··˘/ |
| But they will leave | 4 | ···· |
| On winds at eve, | 4 | ···· |
| A solemn echo to the end of time. | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.