Another sun had risen
On the twenty fourth of August
One thousand nine hundred and ninety eight
Of calendars of eighteen ago.

Ms. Luce threw open her window
And it came the bursting of the light
She looked as far as she could
And everything was a feast for her eyes.

Green fields, nice-smelling flowers and old trees
Total contrast of the season of ice
What a pleasant time it is!
Such an advantage, this time of year.

She couldn't keep hold of the ninth
And she couldn't barely hang on so she cherished it
Politics isn't my cup of tea
But I agree a week is a long time.

Mostly, what larger than life
Was her singing,
"All was golden in the sky,"
Until now, it became her eyes.

She went out, clueless of the precipice.
She was dazzled with the light,
Her feet inching and inching to the edge,
And it happened, the fall.