Sun Before Dawn

She lay in the bracken of the wood,
Her hair cast about her.
I longed, looking and listening,
To reach out, make her stir,
To make the sweet snoring breath
Shout welcome to the summer.
	The sun, the sun before dawn!

But she lay there; I let her lie,
And thought how, as she lay,
The night was brightening around;
The night was becoming day.
I thought to look upon the sun
If I could but turn away.
	The sun, the sun before dawn!

I watched it brighten over her,
Her cheeks aglow with beams.
She murmured something- my name-
And once more sought her dreams.
I leaned forward, anxious now,
As the radiance flowed in streams.
	The sun, the sun before dawn!

She opened the dreams of my life,
Her eyes, thorns sharp and dark.
But they were and are roses too,
A glory of gloom and spark.
As she reached out a hand to me,
I heard a singing skylark.
	The sun, the sun before dawn!

But when I looked up, around,
There was no sun to be seen.
We crouched in darkness still,
In panoply of lightless green,
And no skylark sang overhead.
I wondered what it could mean.
	The sun, the sun before dawn!

Of course, I knew it at last:
Her face was the sun to me,
Making light out of the darkness,
Making trapped brilliance free.
When her dark-rose eyes opened,
They gave mine light to see.
	The sun, the sun before dawn!

She laughed when I told her so,
And denied it, as everything
That I tell her about her beauty
She must away like that fling.
But further proof: when she laughed,
I heard a skylark sing.
	The sun, the sun before dawn!