Friday, April 03, 2015

۝ Morning Poem ۝

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Morning Poem 

by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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The mist has left the greening plain,

The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
The coquette rose awakes again
Her lovely self adorning.

The Wind is hiding in the trees,

A sighing, soothing, laughing tease,
Until the rose says "Kiss me, please,"
'Tis morning, 'tis morning.

With staff in hand and careless-free,

The wanderer fares right jauntily,
For towns and houses are, thinks he,
For scorning, for scorning.
My soul is swift upon the wing,
And in its deeps a song I bring;
Come, Love, and we together sing,
"'Tis morning, 'tis morning."

۝~۝~۝~۝~۝~۝~۝~۝~۝~۝~۝~۝~۝~۝~۝~۝