On a Grey Thread/Dawn
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Dawn
Dawn opens like a great gold flower,
Petal by monstrous petal,
Quivering minute by minute,
Hour by hour.
Stretches great live leaves over hundreds
of hills,
Scatters flakes of pollen dust into a
few valleys,
Drops a loose petal down where a slender
waterfall spills.
Petal by monstrous petal,
Quivering minute by minute,
Hour by hour.
Stretches great live leaves over hundreds
of hills,
Scatters flakes of pollen dust into a
few valleys,
Drops a loose petal down where a slender
waterfall spills.
Morning opens like a gold flower,
Stirs and quivers singingly at the feet of day;
Shoots transparent light into a moving mist
That twists spirally
Like a butterfly at play.
Stirs and quivers singingly at the feet of day;
Shoots transparent light into a moving mist
That twists spirally
Like a butterfly at play.
In the heart of the mist, morning opens, a
gold flower,
Superbly, like a dawning passion.
Can night be the consummation
Of this expectant white hour?
gold flower,
Superbly, like a dawning passion.
Can night be the consummation
Of this expectant white hour?