Poem by Ina Donna Coolbrith

A Perfect Day

I WILL be glad to - day: the sun
Smiles all adown the land;
The lilies lean along the way;
Serene on either hand,
The full - blown roses, red and white,
In perfect beauty stand.

The mourning - dove within the woods
Forgets, nor longer grieves;
A light wind lifts the bladed corn,
And ripples the ripe sheaves;
High overhead some happy bird
Sings softly in the leaves.

The butterflies flit by, and bees;
A peach falls to the ground;
The tinkle of a bell is heard
From some far pasture - mound;
The crickets in the warm, green grass
Chirp with a softened sound.

The sky looks down upon the sea,
Blue, with not anywhere
The shadow of a passing cloud;
The sea looks up as fair —
So bright a picture on its breast
As if it smiled to wear.

A day too glad for laughter — nay,
Too glad for happy tears!
The fair earth seems as in a dream
Of immemorial years:
Perhaps of that far morn when she
Sang with her sister spheres.

It may be that she holds to day
Some sacred Sabbath feast:
It may be that some patient soul
Has entered to God's rest,
Por whose dear sake He smiles on
And all the day is blest.

1. The Captive of the White City
2. Two
3. Bret Harte (A stir of pines in the forest)
4. Meadowlarks
5. The Day of Our Lord

Print

1119 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version