The Lark's Song

By Mrs. James Glenny Wilson

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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