Too Brief the Interlude

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...!"

Dawn and Sunrise

A silver flute-call!    Night
Dons copper lace.
A white gull curves in flight
With slow, smooth grace
Through silences of space.

Tiptoeing light as a fawn,
A breeze ballets.
In a mirror-pool, a swan . . .
And a white birch sways.
Hush! Stillness speaks his praise.*

In the peace of quietude,
Calm, beautiful,
From the mountain top, cool-dewed,
Comes the miracle:
Pale gold illumes the gull.


* This version from the Relief Society Magazine. In the version published in Path to Home, the line reads "Still ... hushed ... the canyon prays."