The flower of light is unfolding, its petals are morning;
Misty winds whisper like silks in the stir of the day;
Dew-bedight spider-webs glisten with diamonds adorning;
The dawn like an arrow has levelled its ray
Fugitive shadows run melting away
And the swallows of summer return to the meadows of May.
The dawn falls dappled around me,
The trees are fountains of green,
And one more morning has found me
Amused and amazed by what living may mean;
And yolk-yellow sunlight is swirling
From the broken blue shell of the sky
As shadows of doubt begin whirling:
Is meaning and truth in the world, or my eye?
Below me the indigo valley lies hazily warming;
Blue-silver-distant, the far misty bells echo near;
A high mazey bird catches fire in its lazy performing;
Then the sun in gold armour resplendent appears
And scatters the shades with his radiant spears,
Though assassins are scheming to turn the King's beaming to tears.
Southward the glittering ocean
Holds a promise of silver and gold;
And the river's meandering motion
Reminds me no child ever plans to grow old
For the sun warms the stones of the river
As it honeys the green of the lea -
But nothing can flow on forever
And everything feeds the dark night of the sea.
The life of a man is a road that is never returning,
It follows the westering sun to the end of the day;
Over his shoulder, he knows, the old bridges are burning;
But each follows onward his predestined way,
His eye never wanders, his feet never stray
From the path through the dark in the part fortune cast him to play.
And at night when the road through the valley
Unrolls like a ribbon of stars
To the sodium glow of the city
(Strange to me now as a city on Mars),
And the moon pours light on the meadows
From her chalice of quicksilver fire,
No neon assylum from shadows
Can banish your fear of the shadow you are.