This, to a golden Spring afternoon
When the sun drifts low in the sky,
And a remnant of light
Dapples over the trees
That sway with a rustling sigh.
And this, to a silvery night in Spring
When the moon bathes the world in its balm,
As the stillness of peace
And a juniper breeze
Weave a spell that is drowsy and calm.
This, to the glory of night and of day
In springtime’s most delicate mold,
For a night born in spring
Is like silver’s soft gleam
And a day like the pureness of gold.
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