The cold, blue, white, misty and cloudy sky,
Hark to many arising battle-cries.
Hence the call of the different sun chimes,
Hither, the morning clouds, all frozen in time.
The divination of nature's wonder,
Suddenly hits me like balls of thunder.
Mark, the tedious stultifying sunrise,
That drains out almost all the morning cries.
The halcyon of the huge vicinage.
Gives many images of the montage.
Fleuries of the remanent animals,
The wonder of the nature's luscious new birth,
Truly, tis' thee what a beautiful birth.
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