Morning Draws Near

MORNING draws near. Already watery gleams
Seep through, diluting darkness; premonitions
Of dawn run on the air; imminent light
Wells fire along the horizon. Day is waking!
By shore and dune, in meadow, marsh and wood,
To the old torment, to the bloody task
And tragedy of being, to the delight,
The longing and the wonder, life is waking!
Faint pipings prick the dusk, preludes to joy
At the coming of the god; the robin first
With frenzied caroling gives thanks; the wren,
The oriole, chewink, flicker and chat
Sound jubilant assent; the thrushes last
With solemn chant antiphonal proclaim
Resurrection and return. Spirit is waking!
The spirit that sleeps in metal and in stone,
In flower and tree, in water, earth and air,
And in the spinning demons of the atom,
And in the stars, and in the beast in man
Sleeps, but is growing restless and shall win
A way out of its prison. Hope is waking!
All time present and all time to come,
All time past — the past, which has been the future,
As the future shall be the past — all spirits living,
All spirits that were, all spirits yet to be,
In this brief moment , this eternal now,
Wait on that hope: we are all here together.