O silver sun you light my way
you stare at me, above the church
across the port, above the bay
o silver sun tepid as the world turns
towards Christmas the brightest day
when my joyful heart burns
like a fiery sun before its slow decay.
O silver sun, shine more brightly do
these shadows are so sad and pale
as the Holy child's face is too
who comes each year and never fails
to cheer our hearts so cold and frail.
L. Ivison copyright @ gmail.com
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