A Melody Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

What wafting mist over the meadow plays?
What tune arises from the greenery? -
It is soft and sweet, of a rhapsody,
And lends such feeling in the morning haze.
It is tempered by love, a calm desire.
It glides along the moss, ethereal,
Approaching the house, and its portico,
Taking on the hues of a tepid fire.
Why seeks it my heart from its matin dew? -
Why does it come through the curtains with grace,
Painting a vision of your lovely face,
When I pondered I saw the last of you? -
Why this melody that wavering arose
From the gentle sway of the grassy glen
Brings forth a bouquet of a scented rose
That lingers round the colonnade, and then
Enters through the long, sunlit sashes
To rest among the busts of statues
As the sky above the meadow, of china blues,
Also enters, along with the ashes
Of my memories of you, angelic and young.
Your black mane parted, your brown eyes gleaming
Has wrought this rapture, this song that is sung.
And all the rays of the sun are beaming,
All the flowers below the terrace are in bloom
In this symphony which engulfs the room
And speaks of your name as the golden light
Strikes the spires above, as it does at night.