A Gift
I WOKE:— Night, lingering, poured upon the world Of drowsy hill and wood and lake Her moon-song.
And the breeze accompanied with hushed fingers On the birches.
Gently the dawn held out to me A golden handful of bird's-notes.
Leonora Speyer
I WOKE:— Night, lingering, poured upon the world Of drowsy hill and wood and lake Her moon-song.
And the breeze accompanied with hushed fingers On the birches.
Gently the dawn held out to me A golden handful of bird's-notes.
The speaker wakes while night is still lingering over the hills, woods, and lake. The darkness itself seems to be singing a moon-song, and a light breeze touches the birches as if quietly accompanying it. Then dawn arrives gently and offers a handful of bright bird-notes.
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