Our sun sailed high in the covering sky

For faithful year after bright year

Like a silent golden ship

While beneath basked sleek deer

Until setting late in the west

When all would take their rest

But that a new and sickly pale sun

Did rise once more in the east;

So, instead, a quiet spell was cast

And those beneath fell at the last

Lost in a dreamless, shadowed place

Until perchance the old will rise again

In its rightful space

To banish that so fake and foul

Forever more.