Сара Тисдейл (Sara Teasdale)

Morning

  I went out on an April morning
   All alone, for my heart was high,
  I was a child of the shining meadow,
   I was a sister of the sky.

  There in the windy flood of morning
   Longing lifted its weight from me,
  Lost as a sob in the midst of cheering,
   Swept as a sea-bird out to sea.