by Luis G. Dato

Blushing with youthfulness, again my muse,
After long absence turns to me her smiles,
Her hair unbinding, beckons and beguiles,
To the soul’s dream and lyre in long disuse;
And as she comes my waking soul imbues
With dream the dawn; the hour of fancy whiles
Me to a fairyland — I roam its isles
And glades which flowers day-long with scent suffuse;

As though when night’s last shadow lingering lies,
And fair Aurora’s light at dawn she brings,
One wonders with a half-awakened eye,
O’er slumbering vales, and then, unthought there springs
From the low earth a wakening outcry,
And all the air is silver with white wings.

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