Morning Glory.

Morning came blowing his bubbles of light,

His puffed pink cheeks were over the hill;
And eight little birds in an even flight
Went with a single will.
Morning with laughter was tossing his hair,
His curls were bright as the world was long;
And over the trees came the waves of the air
Tossing a spray of song.
ittle !oy !lue had his horn at his mouth,
!lowing a call that the morning knew;
And the sound went north and the sound went south"
Music of wind and dew.
The day came flowing, a great white sea;
And every wave with enchantment curled
As it broke and broke on the heart of me
All the length of the world.
#heep in the meadow and cows in the corn;
And black ink calls to a dry black pen.
$ ittle !oy !lue come blow on your horn
And waken the morning men.
The sheep in the meadow, the sun in the trees,
The gold on the wattle, the blue in the sky"
% have heard the hooves of the light little bree&e
'o pittering(pattering by.
Who)ll go a(hunting the bree&es with me*
ittle !oy !lue, blow loud on your horn+
There)s a ,uart of honey for every bee
And always a cow in the corn.
!ubbles and bubble of morning -oy+
And the roses blush as they tell the story
$f a grey man capering into a boy,
Whose soul is drunk with glory+
..M.W.
/.#.W.
The Bulletin, 0 #eptember 1023.