Morning Song

I have come to the tree green with leaves Amidst the brash blustering of winter and thawing The prophet once the old green decieves But he did not hear else but cold crow cawing I am come to thronging of the voice And the memory of years in shadows decayed For there was no sunlight to rejoice The heart, nothing bright for what we prayed But there perched on a lectern like limb On this gray day you find another voice to sing The voice I thought I was dead, since dim Light found you no where on your sovereign and sweet wing Hark how it sings from Abraham to King Hark the passion pelting the prodigal of faith And our weariness melting, we cling To each word, loving the song and knowing its late. O but sweet today, and not sweeter Before, this is the sweetest song you ever sang Nothing in it for our hereafter Just the reminder that dawn can still come fire-strong As we love our leaders to be. Wet My hope again with dew and set my love to bloom And for this song I too shall forget The coming sunset everywhere, the harping doom.