Lo! comes Dawn, the Sky’s morning maid,
To rouse the Sun – still in slumber laid
On a couch with satiny sheets of red-amathyst,
And draped with mosquito-nets of gossamer mist!
As, slothfully, the Sun ulocks his eye
(And captive Sleep, uncaged, away does fly) ,
Twilight thankfully ends her part-time vigil:
Relieved of charge, wherefor tarry still?
TheSky is now aglow with joy untold
At husband’s sight – bathed in molten gold!
How soft and vast a carpet she has spread
To cushion his feet throught his tour ahead!
Clad in radiant robes of silver bright,
The Sun, with gratis stocks of warmth and light,
Sallies forth for rationing out in shares
To all, their quota of his diurnal wares.
Behold the sky – as vesperal dusk ensues –
Cosmetising her baby Sunset Hues
And clothing them in brightly dyed attire
For their evening jaunt with their glittering sire!
With what delight the bubbling Hues all gather
And throng the Sun like whorls of coloured lather!
They circumambulate with swirling frills
And motley patterns weave with whirling drills!
But all that glitters is not wholly gold:
The Sun’s flaws his secret deeds unfold!
No faithful spouse and, less, a doting Pa
He proves to be ere going hardly far.
Ditching his kids by stooping low behind
A mountain peak – so none may see or find –
Into the Ocean’s arms he soon alights,
Behind the black screen of abetting Night!
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