Song

If I could sing the song of the dawn, The carroling word of leaf and bird And the sun-waked fern uncurling there, I would go lonely and would not care.

If I could sing the song of the dusk, The stars and moon of glistening June Lit at the foot and head of me, The Spinner might break the thread of me.

If I could sing but the song of love. Fill my throat with each sounding note. Others might kiss and clasp and cling, Mine be the lips that would sing, would sing!