The Lark's Song
Born 6/11/1848
The morning is wild and dark,
The night mist runs on the vale,
Bright Lucifer dies to a spark,
And the wind whistles up for a gale.
And stormy the day may be
That breaks through its prison bars,
But it brings no regret to me,
For I sing at the door of the stars!
Along the dim ocean-verge
I see the ships labouring on;
They rise on the lifting surge
One moment, and they are gone.
I see on the twilight plain
The flash of the flying cars;
Men travail in joy or pain --
But I sing at the door of the stars!
I see the green, sleeping world,
The pastures all glazed with rime;
The smoke from the chimney curled;
I hear the faint church bells chime.
I see the grey mountain crest,
The slopes, and the forest spars,
With the dying moon on their breast --
While I sing at the door of the stars!
DayPoems Poem No. 882
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/882.html">The Lark's Song by Mrs. James Glenny Wilson</a>
The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor
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