​After the morning bird

To such a beautiful morning, to wake up to the sweet morning birds, dim in the morning dark. Such pleasure, that men have slept their woes and it is time to rise to different vows. Such enchantment, such a melody in the breeds of the morning birds, that forever could I sit on my couch and listen to eternity. Slowly it dwindles in the morning light, when its soothing has met its day’s mandate  — and travel with the morning dark throughout the globe. Far in the trees or up on the clouds, with whatever it travels, its stead is a grace with its company. Half of my heart it leaps in its memory and half it broods in the void it left. So much is a vacant thought in the morning air, that makes my day in bright forecast and I rise to make it count.