Dressing the day,
Beaming purely, on bankers
Hours, spinning such fine, spine
Wheel ways, painting the stones
Of grey, never so faraway, showing
Mighty, mirth in maddest Midgard,
Bearing blooms dizzily, trailing
All the new, children who play,
Pick and count, humming with faces                                                
Bright as the late bedding stars
Joyous in the offered cheers
Of the crowning sun, gifts
All, in endless amount.