Dawn
A slumber’s pause holds fast, The dawn creeps slow to break, Golden tongues touch the ground, Beneath limbs that stretch awake.
A wince from winter’s breath, The larks behold their quest, And shadows dance with mirth, In youthful blues, the best.
Through boughs of azure pearls, Enwrapped in warmth, they rise, And sunlight cracks the gloom, In arcs above the skies.
In twinkling dew droplets, A pulse of morning plays, Life opens new horizons, In radiant finished ways.
- T E Hulme