CHILD’S PLAY

This is morning, with flowers gay
And songs of light and pleasant day;
Of bees and roses open to morn,
And the joys of the sun each dawn as it’s born.

This is Night- with moondust eyes;
With songs of stardust and siren cries;
Of moth and night-breeze born of shade.
A sacred dark, as the evening knows
What light and sunlight never shows.

© 1968 Eschate