Her morning light, so like her dusk—
her dusk, the fading light of year that glows,
and blows her cool winds til leaves in flight,
alight with all her colors fall…
Autumn morning, bright and clear:
your dusky light and crispy air enthrall!
Her cloudy waves, obscure and clear—
so clear as crystal turquoise waters crest,
and catch the sun, then crash in hiss of foam,
til rows of tumult gray give way, show all…
Restless sea, in passion’s press:
your dusky waters breaking call my soul!