Sunsets & Birdsong

It seems as though I wake up

Just to dwell on what is wrong--

Even though each morning

     Without fail--begins with birdsong--

 

I loathe the night when it comes,

For there's day to squander yet!

Even though the ev'ning brings

     Each time--a perfect sunset--

 

The world has routine beauty;

Ev'ry morrow guarantees it--

But I'm the sorry fool who

     In his sorrow--never sees it!

dubito ergo sumNature

◄ The Willow Tree

I Look For Certain Things In Poetry ►

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