Background: The Vale of the Azure Sun

Most any child or gypsy could tell you two or three verses of The Vale of the Azure Sun.

Fields of blue by hills of stone,
Sky bright green on a sparkling dome.
Clouds of wispy yellow foam,
In the Vale of the Azure Sun.

Pray not to trip on a strawberry tide,
Nor ask of the dead for a hand to guide.
Nor follow to Alice, her rabbit astride,
In the Vale of the Azure Sun.

Sculptures fine of marble pied,
As no man makes nor ever tried.
Wait for the sculptor in grey to guide,
In the Vale of the Azure Sun.

His chariot races across the sky,
Chased by the night his reindeer cry.
Never once caught however he fly,
In the Vale of the Azure Sun.

His chariot chases the morning shore,
As swift as a shadow it flies before.
Dusk behind, Dawn afore,
In the Vale of the Azure Sun.

Doors of water, doors of mirth,
Doorways hidden in the earth.
Doorways of enormous girth,
In the Vale of the Azure Sun.

Pray not to trip on a strawberry tide,
Nor ask of the dead for a hand to guide.
Nor follow to Alice, her rabbit astride,
In the Vale of the Azure Sun.