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Alarm Clocks

Rating: 2.9
When Dawn strides out to wake a dewy farm
Across green fields and yellow hills of hay
The little twittering birds laugh in his way
And poise triumphant on his shining arm.
He bears a sword of flame but not to harm
The wakened life that feels his quickening sway
And barnyard voices shrilling "It is day!"
Take by his grace a new and alien charm.

But in the city, like a wounded thing
That limps to cover from the angry chase,
He steals down streets where sickly arc-lights sing,
And wanly mock his young and shameful face;
And tiny gongs with cruel fervor ring
In many a high and dreary sleeping place.
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COMMENTS
Susan Williams 15 February 2016
There is such a strength in the dawn that comes upon the farmlands while the dawn that slinks into the city is a pathetic weak thing in comparison. An Awesome Write with a skillful pen wielded by an observant poet
22 4 Reply
Walterrean Salley 09 August 2012
Strong images. Beautiful poem, well written. Enjoyed very much.
2 5 Reply

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