Fresh from her dreams,
she sang in daybreak,
gentling tones, radiant
rhythms, singing roses
back to sleep, playing
in tones the violets tell.

She had filled herself
with softness, opening
her bow lips into praise
of the early hours, It was
a girl really, she saw there
beyond the glowing pier,

Her mother, a daughter,
the youngest grandmother,
in round liveliness—

Her soul, cheerful, and whole.