I imagine
Palms waving and scattered
To the joyful rags of shattered
When the sun returns
And nature learns
From rain.

“Hail!”
The crowd cheers on,
(O! irony that daily dawns)
That sons impart and lively
Beneath the pale
Blue-black sky.

I see Her
Riding through the sheaves
Sheathed and crowned by greener leaves;
Nothing shuns her gold
So soon as all the
Stars enfold.

I wish no
Night would black this light
But that’s a naïve thought tonight:
If not by rain, or sun that wanes
I would not love
Her so.

And if the
Moon should hold the night,
Dispersing that great orbal light,
I’ve have a day to thank
Tomorrow and tomorrow
For the sun.