Morning Song

 
Morning Song

A song, that wells from a joyful heart,
Now wafts up from the street;
What creature is this, that sings like a bird,
With words of human speech?

This morn, I rose with a downcast heart,
By sorrows sapped of might--
Until I heard this song of man
Rise up, in winged delight.

How sweet this song of happiness,
Sung by a mortal man.
All nature seems to join in rhyme,
With a song that says, “We can!”

How sweet indeed, and yet so sad,
That this in turn must pass--
Both song and singer fade away,
Like scent and bloom, alas!

But as the lilt and cadence fade,
This heart is not the same
As when this hearer had not heard
That song that had no name.

From the city street, there rose this morn
That song of pure delight.
The happiness the singer felt
Did fill his heart with light.

And like a flame that leaps to touch
A leaf it sets alight,
So too that song did light my heart
With hope and sudden sight.

And so perhaps one day I’ll sing
And lift another’s heart--
Just as this minstrel of the street
Did, of him, leave me part.

Arjun (Babui) Janah  < sjanah@aol.com >
Brooklyn, New York
2006.04.03 Mon.

Older, defunct websites:
  
The Daily Poet:    http://journals.aol.com/sjanah/dailypoet
Arjun's Website:  http://members.aol.com/ajanah/

Newer, extant websites:
 
The Daily Poet:   http://thedailypoet.blogspot.com
Arjun's Website:  http://suniljanah.org/ajanah