A POEM
To MRS. FRANKIE RICHET WALKER
Portland, Ore.
I watched the birth of each fair dawn, The rising sun, in glorious light,Grow into rosy morn. (A wond'rous, beauteous sight)All through the valley, And o'er, the mountain heightsDewy mists kept rising Veiling with vapors grey,The mighty trees, and approach of coming day. But as the ascending sun grew stronger,Its piercing rays cleared Mists and clouds alike away.And as some fairy magic wonder Earth's loveliness revealed,Superb, by perfect day. Now from the woodland hills nearbyCommingling voices of the birds, With the cuckoo's cryRend the air with untold melodies. Thus all drowsy earth awakesAnd lives and breathes In silent woods, among the trees,
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