As she leaps on pink and satin cloud,
Beauty is with her, like a shroud.
In sunny mist, a twilight stream,
She laughs and frolics as in a dream.

Through slumbrous days and steamy nights,
She oft takes off on strange flights.
The dance is one of mystery,
Performed without a symphony.

In the marsh and in the glen,
She'll pause to rest now and then.
In shady forest and green meadow,
She flits through trees and grass below.

Wearing jewelry of amethyst,
She resides in sunset's rainbow mist.
The trees bow low where she prances;
The world stops to listen when she dances!

She makes the young gentlemen blush;
And the landscape still and hush.
She wakes the robins in the morn;
Caresses waiting stalks of corn.

She hails the sunrise with a whirl;
She's a very special girl.
At times surly, at times sweet,
The wind goes by on satin feet.