MORNING GLORIES

Distant as a dream’s flight,

Lay an eerie plain,

Where the weary moonlight

Swooned into a moan;

Wailing after dead seed

Came the ghost of rain.

There was I, a wild weed,

Growing all alone.

Like a doubted story,

Came the thought of day;

God and all His glory

Lingered otherwhere,

Busy with the spring thrill

Many dreams away.

Could a little weed’s will

Fling so far a prayer?

Lo, the sudden wonder!

(Is a prayer so fleet?)

From the desert under,

Morning glories grew;

Twined me, bound me

With caressing feet;

Wove song ’round me—

Pink, white, blue!

As a fog is rifted

By the eager breeze,

Darkness broke and lifted,

Tossing like a sea!

Lo, the dawn was flowering

Through the maple trees!

Oh, and you were showering

Kisses over me!

Smart Set John G. Neihardt