THE GIFT OF DAY

Amid the glory of the sun, the world
A-tremble lifts in tossing clouds and blue
Melodious architraves, with towers unfurled
Like festal banners to the daylight's view.

Afar prophetic, sounds the cock's loud call
Hierophant before the gates of light;
Amid his radiant canticle stirs all
His emerald plumage in its joyous might.

And every little pebble shines with gold;
The harvest fields exhale their fragrant heat;
Swept are the woods with waves of shadows old;
Day is like bread, a blessing clean and sweet.