Green youth, mellow with the Sun, gives way to an end of days, a quickening of ways when frivolities are cast aside and seriousness abides as the darkness lingers, the warm light hurries to the mysteriously Wild West as the journey is almost done, and the Sun almost run.
A crown of gold, shimmering and brilliant with the rise of the hurrying Sun; a royal robe of deep russets and dark purples, splashed with orange trim; why wait until the close of life to bring forth the best of Your wardrobe?
Why wait so late to shine with hues?
All that remains is an endless profusion of days, growing cold, gone too fast: all is past.
