The delight of the eye

Cat and mouse between the Moon and Sun,
all bare souls lost in the daily run.
All things old to the eye may seem,
though the eye `tis, old and no gleam.

 A kingdom so vast, no abyss too deep.
The firmament so wide, yet stars forever peep.
Me thinks, what secrets here lie?
All bliss to behold, yet all miss the eye!

A good, yet usual morning to the eye it all seemed,
until a shy, first beam forked all, that then gleamed.
From nothing to life had all come, and me.
A thing so little, could fill the mightiest with glee.

No time did the inward sky waste,
to notice the balcony's TV; higher in definition than high-definition!

The worth of the words of Wordsworth

mine will need to describe the delight of the eye that beheld!

Oh what joy `tis to watch the morn break,
to see the Sun perch on the balcony!
My heart leapt in joy as the eye beheld
the cream in the Sun's red amidst the white in the sky's blue.

The green of the gay trees towered soon in sheen
No show ever matched the glory of the scene.
I cherished that moment on a screen
God-made, or perhaps the beam laid!