100 suns on greens leaves hearth,
When heart of gold is bright and good
with love and will,
Acacia stood.
And from a cave all deep and sleeping
Mother Sun awoke the weeping,
All sunbeam lashes spread the earth,
her breath entwined a dawning birth.
And though alas you did her wrong
to cast a curse of spite,
Take this breath of rosy spice
and kiss the morning light.
For gently now
we sway and dance,
between the pom pom tresses,
And all the branches whole and one
Beginning-now she dresses.
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