Verse for the Morning

Come together in my wake,
In the arch of the mounting Sun.
For in endless war with the tide of Night,
This battle I have won.

My glint and glisten adorn your songs,
As you praise my hope and promise.
I bring with me either dew or frost,
This danger keeps ploughmen honest.

As my golden fingers stretch from sleep,
At the first crack of the dawn,
I bring with me the lament of the Moon,
And the stars which now have gone.

But mourn not such brief parting,
For my Sun too soon must die,
And it will be clear by the tide of Night,
Her destiny across the sky.

While everything is dark and quiet,
You and I will take our rest.
Until we rise up by my beckon,
With the Sun upon my breast.