Ode To Morning
Ode to Morning
Yon morning, spellbound mistress of the skies
How gently all your feathers move apart
How lightly thrill your soft, eternal sighs
And feed with hope and mirth my swollen heart
How softly sway your tresses of pure gold
And glut with wealth the barren, night-sprent glade
And plump the crisp, brown hazel shells with beams
And cast a light strewn with a cooling shade
Athwart the gentle ebbs of oozing streams
Once quiet, still unravished yet. How bold
Your bubbling swells all cast their glinting charms
Across the earth’s soft cheek and softer breast
Yon morning, wrap the world within your arms
And light each mead with gloried noonday zest
And twine with passioned rays the Heaven’s steep
And cups of all the gem-encrusted buds
And feed the bowers with a web of light
And all the clouds with Lord Apollo’s rods
Of nascent shine to veer away the night
And all the evil spells of its black sleep
Return to us, gold morn with aching pride,
And wake the spirits of the sleeping clouds,
And stir the bees which in the foxgloves hide,
And let the bashful roses pry their shrouds
To feel upon their breasts the cooling breeze
Unfold from out the mountain’s stony rim
The rainbows, looming arches, sundry hued
Gold morn, when midnight’s sleepy glow shall dim
And leas no more shall be by stars bedewed
Then glow, until the lark sings with full ease!
© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov
Copyright © Gleb Zavlanov | Year Posted 2014
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