So sweet the remedies of morrow
And blistering the reds divine.
Pastures that extent beyond what would seem
To be the undulating hills of peace.

I’ll wait for you till summer’s late evening.
I’ll sing for you as the autumn wind blows.
I’ll call for you as the winter flake falls.
I’ll find you in the spring’s verdant pasture.

What is thy measure forth in beauty?
It cannot be in stature lessened.
Onward ventures toward the heights that majesty befalls
With hastened footsteps treading softly.

And still I wait for you through summer.
And still I sing for you in gusty autumn ensign.
And still I call for you in flurried chill.
And still I find you warm in the nativity of daylight.

Refined is your motion.
Elegant is your design.
In your poise, grace is given.
I decrease and am humbled to receive thee.