With nothing but a day to fill, I cycled to the shore
Alone, I ventured further than I’d ever gone before
The town still dead, I rose, embarked, not knowing what I’d find
Or whether there’d be anything worth leaving else behind
I, skidding, stopped at each fog field, to pin for show and tell
And having seen, I weighed return, pride sated, self-impressed
But stray rays piqued through the smoky swells
So on I spun, half-caught–half-not–by vernal interest
I gasped when round the bend I turned:
The sea, eclipsed by he in heaven perched!
My dreams now underfoot, I yearned
To, waking, touch the face too bright to search
As I returned I saw I’d judged it wrong:
The shroud burned off now crimson painted lawns
Was all my road so lively all along?
Is all so right, so lovely as this dawn?

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