Morning Song

Morning Song
by Theodora Goss

Let us away.
The break of day
should find us gone,
and in our stead
an empty bed
will greet the dawn.

Meanwhile we’ll be
beneath a tree
where woodbine twines,
upon the grass
as wild deer pass
through swaying vines.

Beside a stream
we’ll talk and dream,
and as it flows,
a scent will come
to make us dumb
from the wild rose.

A wreath of green
to crown a queen
you’ll weave for me,
a ring complete
of woodbine sweet
pulled from the tree.

I’ll fill your hands
with arching wands
of wild rose sprays
that bloom, like love,
in scented groves
on summer days.

Nor maids nor men
where we’ll walk then,
only things wild:
the stream and tree,
and wandering we,
and deer so mild,
all reconciled.

(The image is Blessed Kiss by Emma Florence Harrison.)

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