Through silent air, cool-dewed--
A country dawn is never trite--
A lark sang morning in my heart until
In ecstasy I watched the sunrise spill
Its gold upon a gull in flight--
Too brief the interlude ...
The sun paused with his chin upon the hill;
Departed in a blaze of light.
In gentle quietude--
The soul of beauty nude--
Beneath star-mariners of night,
A killdeer-Angelus chimed, "Still ... Be still...!"
