Jan 302015
 
Dance, dart in daring airs, 
Part for buttercups, prancing pair
Over wheat's real fields of gold.

God's dancers, these shining
Psyche's bees, emblems busily nothing
Doing, really, fluttering flakes of gold.

Momently only, they here sink
Or there are, immortal moment's winks;
Go, having given our eyes real gold.

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