Slowly I savor the sun’s honeyed glow
Thickening like the valley’s farewell chime;
With careless care the spirit is aglow,
All plenitude, whose name is paradigm.

This wedding cup of Day, does it not brim
With honey of resuscitated past?
Did not Eternity, beyond time’s rim,
Plight troth with Day and give a ring to last?

Sky’s glory, in likeness to the glassy sea,
Sparks molten fusion, casts celestial gleam,
Where sun’s disk melts and drowns colossally.
With dazzled fingers groping, the last beam

Felt pine-top and its eye went out. Left there
In liquid gold the blue Dome circles air.