Glad Song...an Opposite Poem

A smooth calm sweeps

The warm-waking world

Come hither, glad day

With new joys unfurled

For lo; soon twilight creeps

Over the western steeps

And blue shadows of dusk

The heavens salute

Lo! From the depths

Of woven dirt

With joyful thought

Its lays assert

To softly tease the Day;

And smooth the night awry

They make glad the slumb’ring breeze

And with its mirth ally

Comrade from the deep

Laughing in bliss-pink

Before dawn we tiptoe

Toward earth’s brink

Embracing the mystic east

We drink its celestial feast

Brimming with dark heart-sorrow

And yesterday's tomorrow

Janet~

An opposite poem to

Mad Song by William Blake

THE wild winds weep,

And the night is a-cold;

Come hither, Sleep,

And my griefs enfold! . . .

But lo! the morning peeps

Over the eastern steeps,

And the rustling beds of dawn

The earth do scorn.

 

Lo! to the vault

Of pavèd heaven,

With sorrow fraught,

My notes are driven:

They strike the ear of Night,

Make weak the eyes of Day;

They make mad the roaring winds,

And with the tempests play,

 

Like a fiend in a cloud,

With howling woe

After night I do crowd

And with night will go;

I turn my back to the east

From whence comforts have increased;

For light doth seize my brain

With frantic pain.