The Song of Day

Creeping over the faded blue
spreads a blush so shy and new.
Slowly, quietly clears the way
for the coming glorious day.
Now appears a fledgeling ray,
the golden first of a golden day,
fondling awake a million heads
of creatures asleep in their beds.
Hark! the wings stir in the trees
and voices rise on the morning breeze.
Some step boldly, some are shy.
Alone or in herds, they run, jump, fly.
Under the eye of the overhead Sun,
the life that belongs to Day is begun.
On and on, at leisure and in haste,
until the sunlight dims in the west.
Chattering and chirping, they head their way.
Time's come to rest, its the end of the day.
Now they slumber, alike bird and beast,
and wait for the Sun to smile in the east.