Have you ever seen the mist roll past,

and have you ever smelled the hilltop breeze

that washes over you in dawn's peace,

with morning thoughts that shine like bright brass

shining light polished by last day's eve?

If you find yourself wand'ring silent

in the lost morn of pond'rous mist,

saying goodbye to yesterday's kiss,

then you will know in quiet content:

the past day's morning, you will not miss.