The Poet turned his mind to Sun
Through which cosmic fires run
Alight! For every brazen spark
That stokes the spirit to embark
On quest bereft of destination
Human heart in throe, gestation
I ask: What mortal joy is grander?
Than to be rapt by light as you meander?

And raise thy head in reverence
To a flourishing, divine sight
Fanciful as Rainbow's end
Pure as a soul in flight
Fires of gold he saw, at a glance
Adding its zest to the spring's gay dance

Glittering in resplendent hues
From all across the spectrum
Much colours did his eye amuse;
He didn’t know to expect them
He stood and sighed and thought: “How pleasant
To see the world turn iridescent!”