Morning Song

The first “panel” of a triptych of poems I recently finished composing:


As dawn begins to break gently o’er yonder hill,
The quiet woodlands with the lark song begins to fill.
Slowly she stretches wide her arms across the slumbering field;
Her tender breath rippling across the barley’s ripening yield.
Sleepy-eyed, the morning glory awakens on the vine,
As the sun arises to begin its slow and steady climb.
The woodland stream murmurs merrily along its course,
Sparkling as it tumbles down from its clear mountain source.
The drowsy bee stumbles from out its cozy, warm hive
To begin another day of labor until its appointed time to die.
The ploughman and his horse make their way down along the road,
With the harness or with worldly cares, each burdened with his load.
While through the dew-wet hills, the poet, unhurried, makes his way,
In the sweet light of the promise of a new day, singing his hymns of praise.

(©Poeticmeditations 2012.  All rights reserved.)

A personally signed copy of this poem can be ordered at PoeticExpressions.


About poeticmeditations

A 19th-century romantic poet living in the 21st-century. The Romantic poets, nib pens, candlelight, waistcoats, and pocket watches are a few of my favorite things.
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