Swaying along the river\'s gyre,
Noticing sparkling streams of white -
Blue meshed in to the tune of lyres,
With children dancing to the song of life
Flapping their wings in place of kites,
In no regard for sirs or sires,
Each within the canvas brimmed of delight -
That in color\'s notes what they sought to spire
Was in but a passing, of day to night.