Before dawn, a single quiet departure starts the whole valley singing. The speaker addresses someone who has just closed an outside door and stepped into the grass, making no sound with their footfall. That small click of the door is enough to wake the first songbird, whose voice wakes all the others. The speaker, still lying asleep by a rain-wet window, imagines dawn already ready to pry open the day and release music pent up overnight. But on this morning, the song was not self-begun; it needed a human nudge. The bird call “pearly-pearly” means the rain is pearls before sunlight turns it to diamonds. The speaker promises to wake and confirm the story, willingly giving the other person credit for opening the valley’s singing day. There is tenderness in that promise, and the mood is quiet, intimate, and gently magical.
The Valley’s Singing Day — Summary
The sound of the closing outside door was all. You made no sound in the grass with your footfall, As far as you went from the door, which was not far; But you had awakened under the morning star The first song-bird that awakened all the rest. He could have slept but a moment more at best. Already determined dawn began to lay In place across a cloud the slender ray For prying beneath and forcing the lids of sight, And loosing the pent-up music of over-night. But dawn was not to begin their ‘pearly-pearly’ (By which they mean the rain is pearls so early, Before it changes to diamonds in the sun), Neither was song that day to be self-begun. You had begun it, and if there needed proof-- I was asleep still under the dripping roof, My window curtain hung over the sill to wet; But I should awake to confirm your story yet; I should be willing to say and help you say That once you had opened the valley’s singing day.