I love to walk against the yellow light,
The lemon-yellow of the first daylight,
When cold and clear above the frozen earth
The white sun rises far down to the right.

And then to think of life is very sweet;
The shackles fall and drop about one's feet;
Till in the clear forgetfulness of morn
It seems the world and life are all complete.

'T is good to be forgotten and forget;
To look upon the sun and so beget
A golden present, and a past that's free,
A little time, of memory and regret.

And when one strikes and stumbles on a stone,
And turns to find the wingèd fancies flown —
Yet through the passages of life that day
Will run a radiance other than its own.