Eliding

Days lose their meaning when they run together
In joy and joint delight. What does day mean
If every one presents with perfect weather
A blue and balmy sky, light winds serene,
And sun with warmth above? How can one tell
That they are different? Night is not enough,
For though it separates them pretty well,
With darkness, it is all a kind of fluff,
Quickly blown off. The days remain the same.
What matter calendars and timepieces,
When all they do is play a kind of game
Dividing that which really never ceases?
Days flow together, and all days come to one
When every day is fair weather and sun.