Oh how the beauty of the day flows as the cold wind blows,
And you know how much I love you and your golden glow;
How shall I show you the depth of my passion in fashion
Of smitten lover, suppliant to your compassion? As like
Unto rising from ashen heap the Phoenix, my soul arises
To meet your spirit, though I merit not your golden touch,
Such as I am, yet so much do you care, your life my crutch;
Ah! So overwhelming my dwelling place in your heart, not
In part but the whole to move in, out and around your soul,
And drink sweet ambrosia from your celestial bowl; it takes
Its toll but, too, fills the hole in my own beleaguered soul!
Thank you, sweet Selene so serene. . . Thank you; bless you!