
and I thought sailing was bad,/
I saw a rainbow.
How many people/
applaud trees silhouetted/
against the sunset?
Moments of awe: Suns /
set. Moons rise. You touch me. Oft,/
I can find no words.
So do fall’s fading flowers
Of Albion’s alpine meadows shine
As they show off late beauty
At sunset, one last time.
For soon a warm blanket,
Soft, deep and white,
Will form a safe coverlet
And protect them both at night.
Then, the brightness of morning and spring
Will amaze the eyes with the beauty waking brings.