Quietly, leisurely, now the sun,
In her golden gown, walks the dawn.
'Cross the horizon she spots in her sights
Golden doves in golden flight:
One by one the tree tops seize
Her beams beneath their golden leaves:
Sipping a drink, with elegant stance,
Eyes shining gold, two deer prance:
From their dark, damp lair, the crocuses peek,
Gold babies, greeting the sun they seek:
A chattering squirrel goes scampering by
With golden tail and golden eye:
And motionless shapes in the forest gleam
By golden stalks near the golden stream.
Walter de le Mare
Iowa Poetry Association