The Coming of Light
Down from her sun-dominion, to vision she flew,
Limpid and clear
As a child's eyes wide with their wonder.
Soft was the drum of her pinion afar in the blue,
As the hum of a bird
At the crimson lips of a flower, yet deeper toned
Than the thunder.
Limpid and clear
As a child's eyes wide with their wonder.
Soft was the drum of her pinion afar in the blue,
As the hum of a bird
At the crimson lips of a flower, yet deeper toned
Than the thunder.
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