As sun peeks o’er the eastern line
I crave its fiery light
I wish to hold it, make it mine,
As day springs forth from night
It paints orange the land and sea
And sets afire the sky
And so the sun smiles upon me
Before rising so high
So brief those moments of the dawn
And yet they stay with me
E’en after they are long since gone
Only a memory
So quick do grasses rise above
The freshly-sodden ground
Fast pop the daisies after rain
Has sprinkled o’er their heads
Yet trees are slow and plodding
Their branches grow sans haste
Each day t’ward the sun nodding
With patience.
The days keep changing
Long, short, hot, cold, sunny, not
Yet the flowers grow
Winds swirl wildly now
While the rest of the world sleeps
The earth is writhing
When summer winds blow hot and dry,
What does the lily feel?
When autumn leaves come from the sky,
Do they make for its meal?
And when the snow again does fall,
Does the lily despair?
Or does it know, despite it all
Next spring ’twill ‘gain be fair?
Whatever does the lily say
When frozen ‘neath the snow?
What does it feel when bright of day
Coaxes it from below?
Whatever can it think of when
Its leaves begin to spread?
And when its petals open, then
What thinks it of its bed?
Not idly doth the east wind blow
So cool and whistling clear
Nor do in vain the rains follow
Patt’ring for all to hear
Not quiet is the western wind
When it winds to and fro
It twists and eddies as if twinned
With crooked creeks below
Not bashful is the wind from north
Its biting, frigid breath
With fervor does it sally forth
Along with wintry death
The south wind is, ‘mong them, a boon
That carries warm and welcome air
That sighs on us like to the moon
So free, so kind, and best: so fair
All beauty of the earth resounds
In songs both wild and free
But learn we must: though it abounds,
Its bounty’s not for me
The trees do whistle, bend, and creak
The birds cry loud and high
And though to hear them we may seek
They’re not for you and I
The earth is its own
And we but a part
Why does the wind whistle so?
Why does it howl and cry?
Why does it lift its voice
So somber and so high?
A brisk wind blowing
The sun shining on green buds
Life returns at last
