A Gift

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.

(oops, I’ve got to keep better track, I featured this poem before. Still it’s dashed good.)