O for a muse that would give me fairy
Dust! But I smell the effects of dairy
Cows in a field of daisies. Common rust
That coats the soul, unwholesome as the dust
That flies by day. Yet you say to me now
That this dust, though common in form, is how
The great visitation of dawning light
Is seen as such instead of the black night?
That the color of rust that is the sand
Fill's the sky with contraband, doth command
With it's proportions that the sunlit rays
Do shine forth with a most beauteous gaze?
O that I could see the smallest portion,
That glittering sea that makes sunlight run.
Marvelous beginnings, (c) Luke Bennette, June 2012
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