She comes riding early in the morning round
about four to seven.
No
one's ever out at that hour
With eyes that see her touch the morning flowers secretly
And believe
slow bell commotion
And the great trees gently sway
Like an ocean on a still day
And raising praise her arms to the sun
Who
announces the day has begun
At eight frames a second And velvety shadows in misty meadows
Are
changing color so softly
With care the sun puts color in his drawing
And rises to inspect his masterpiece this morning so perfect
And as she
rides through
gold and silver miles
Only the sun is sure what it is that she smiles for
She leaps with no sign of what she has done
Though
her morning rides known by everyone
I'll tell you her name and it's dawn