Morning Comments
Deep-brooding Night has done its worst and best,
And once again we front the new-born Day,
Where now the sickled moon with lessening ray
Hangs low upon the sky's auroral breast.
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Like incense seem in worship of the Morn. And as we list to these far-sounding lyres, So great all grows, so most divinely fair, The soul, fresh-winged, up soars as if reborn............Superb poem 10
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1/20/2026 5:52:26 AM # 1.0.0
Sounding Iyres with the muse of life. Nice work.