Showing posts with label rawalpindi. Show all posts

Wednesday, 3 June 2009

Chinar Cottages- Flipping through Past Pages

Morning
The mist has left the greening plain, The dew-drops shine like fairy rain, The couquette rose awakes again Her lovely self adorning. The Wind is hiding in the trees, A sighing, soothing, laughing tease, Until the rose says “Kiss me, please,” ‘Tis morning, ‘tis morning. With staff in hand and careless-free, The wanderer fares right jauntily, For towns and houses are, thinks he, For scorning, for scorning. My soul is swift upon the wing, And in its deeps a song I bring; Come, Love, and we together sing, “ ‘Tis morning, ‘tis morning.” By: Paul Laurence Dunbar

Morning

The mist has left the greening plain,
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
The couquette rose awakes again
Her lovely self adorning.
The Wind is hiding in the trees,
A sighing, soothing, laughing tease,
Until the rose says “Kiss me, please,”
‘Tis morning, ‘tis morning.

With staff in hand and careless-free,
The wanderer fares right jauntily,
For towns and houses are, thinks he,
For scorning, for scorning.
My soul is swift upon the wing,
And in its deeps a song I bring;
Come, Love, and we together sing,
“ ‘Tis morning, ‘tis morning.”

By: Paul Laurence Dunbar