Dim seas of sand swim slowly into sight
   As if from out the silence swiftly born;
   Faint foremost herald of the coming morn,
Red tentacles reach out into the night;
The shadows gray, then fade to rosy white.
   The stars fade out, the greatest and the least;
   Now a red rose is blooming in the east,
And from its widening petals comes the light.

While, fleecy clouds are fading from on high,
   The sun-god flings afar his golden brands;
      A breeze springs up and races 'mid the dunes,
      A-whisper with old tales and mystic runes;
Now blue and gold ride rampant in the sky,
   And now full day comes marching o'er the sands.