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May Morning

 I lie stretched out upon the window-seat 
And doze, and read a page or two, and doze, 
And feel the air like water on me close, 
Great waves of sunny air that lip and beat 
With a small noise, monotonous and sweet, 
Against the window -- and the scent of cool, 
Frail flowers by some brown and dew-drenched pool 
Possesses me from drowsy head to feet.
This is the time of all-sufficing laughter At idiotic things some one has done, And there is neither past nor vague hereafter.
And all your body stretches in the sun And drinks the light in like a liquid thing; Filled with the divine languor of late spring.

by Stephen Vincent Benet
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