That sun will touch the earth with amber ray
To wake all creatures up to daily toil
And fill with warmth the sky, the sea, the soil
To nurture tiny seeds to bales of hay.
Their subjects hide as daytime fades away
And keep out cold by light of burning oil.
To them the nightly chill brings deathly coil
‘Til night's pale glow is held in grave dismay.
The silent guard will never catch their eyes,
Yet shrouds the beds in which they sow their dreams
While withering light reveals their parched demise.
The nightly blooms escape the daily guise,
Rejecting subtle shades for radiant streams.
They cast off crowns, and part with brighter ties.