The skies in faint sky-ish blue, their sheen lustrous, shining bright, Fluffy rolls of ice-candy, not flavored pink, but conventional white. The flaming red of our furious Sun, majestic in every respect, Reaches us as a shade of orange-yellow, giving life a new aspect. The prosperous king, His Majesty Earth, seems sunk in immobility, Concealing that His Majesty Earth, is in constant, though subtle, activity. We look at whom, when dusk arrives, once night dawns upon us, It's Father Moon, our night-saver, who is always going around us.' It's Father Moon, our night-saver, who is always going around us