The saffron sky was burning bright
As the day gave way to night.
The clouds drew up in regal clothes
Of ivory stitches and spun gold
The water, silver tapestry
To play to Heaven’s vanity
That It may look at the pond’s face
And see Its own imperial grace.
With Spring-tinged breeze as instrument
They danced to fill their amusement
To make the gods of Olympus swoon
And to shame the rival moon
For there’s no better time to prove
The majesty of that orb’s rule
Than as the hand of dusk draws down
The radiant gemstone of Sol’s crown.