Poems (Jordan)/Morning—Evening

by Rebecca Queen Jordan

MORNING—EVENING

I saw the Sun, like some gigantic smith,
 Plate all the hill-tops and the trees with gold;
He tossed aside his coat of many colors with
 Such force, that, tumblingly, it rolled—and—rolled!

The flowers ran to pick it up; each one
 Secured a fragment for himself to wear,
Until it should be needed by the weary Sun—
 But lo! He lifts a new one from the air!