When the morning sun Spills his red lights among the naked trees And one by one The hills awaken—and like wind-played seas Give back the music of the breeze, When among film and tracery of boughs Stripped by the winter's teeth, Green glow the sun-filled pines—O man, unhouse Your head of human walls—get from beneath Shut ceilings—let the skies take off the roof Of your small room—and into the Park at seven Go with tremendous stride— Earth there is open wide To the sun and the wind and the amplitude of heaven! That Child, the World, from out the infinite night Draws through the dark Into the light— And all the sacred mystery of Birth Hovers on the Earth— Even in the pale of the man-gardened Park The mystery of Morn, the beauty and the splendor Through the groves are slipping, from the boughs are dripping, A miracle without us, That yet the heart's core owns!— Chant there the pebble-tripped waters shut in stones, Sparrows are over the turf chirping and tripping, And Man's World sings in a swinging circle about us! O film of ice skimming the crystal pool! See how it flashes in the wintry sun! And hear the water splash!—how clean! how cool! And behold how visible, yea, on every one, The silences of enormous centuries, Brood on the rocks and the unstirring trees! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THESMOPHORIAZUSAE: WOMEN'S CHORUS by ARISTOPHANES THE EVENING WIND by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT IT'S A QUEER TIME by ROBERT RANKE GRAVES THE INVITATION by GEORGE HERBERT SONNET: TO HOMER by JOHN KEATS MOTHER TO SON by IRENE RUTHERFORD MCLEOD SONNET by KATHARINE REBECCA ADAMS |