Here goes a trifle sway that startles
an idle bard and Sun.
'neath the wavering shades he weaves
the rhyme of leaves and Sun.
Here goes a soul white as daphnes,
in fragrant swells are souls reborn,
in her wake they're tossed on shimmers
and then ashore: the bard and Sun.
Here goes the crimson Sun;
he bids a fair adieu,
quilts a sanguine spread upon,
and slips a certain dew.
Thus the bard of daphne swell
ends his rhyme
in hues of eve and autumn sway,
and then some lulls and dews.