Poem October 18, 1999 Issue

Dawn

Joann Cook Smedley

The light that dapples tree and field
in the first blush of dawn,
and wakens earth and opens flower,
and prompts the feathered song
is earthly beauty's feeble taste
of Soul's pure light divine,
that rises every moment, Lord,
when all our thoughts are Thine.

Joann Cook Smedley

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