Song of the morn
The dawn is come and gone
Yet
Her white freshness still
Goes round and round
We
Of the new day
In this new day need it so!
Last
Night
The
Moon
Slept
Yet
Shone
The same
Last
Night
Opiate
Stars
Trembled
Not
Yet
Shone
Last
Night
Last
Night
The
Cocks
Crowed
Into
Deep
Midnight
At
The
Time
That
Certain
Tombs
And
Graves
Yawned
And
Slow
Opened
Up
And
Ghosts
And
Shrouds
With flambeaux
Turned around
The streets and
Ways
Of the old cemetery
Song of the morn!
Hear
Hear
The richness of the lark
Hear
The sad beauty of
The hours passing
Passing irresistible.
Now
That days' begun
And
The morn's on
Its way
Now
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem