It's like the light

XCVIII.

It's like the light, -

A fashionless delight,

It's like the bee, -

A dateless melody.

It's like the woods,

Private like breeze,

Phraseless, yet it stirs

The proudest trees.

It's like the morning, -

Best when it's done, -

The everlasting clocks

Chime noon.

Between Fort Washakie and Lander, Wyoming.