  Distant as a dream’s flight, Lay an eerie plain, Where the weary moonlight Swooned into a moan; Wailing after dead seed Came the ghost of rain. There was I, a wild weed, Growing all alone. Like a doubted story, Came the thought of day; God and all His glory Lingered otherwhere, Busy with the spring thrill Many dreams away. Could a little weed’s will Fling so far a prayer? Lo, the sudden wonder! (Is a prayer so fleet?) From the desert under, Morning glories grew; Twined me, bound me With caressing feet; Wove song ’round me— Pink, white, blue! As a fog is rifted By the eager breeze, Darkness broke and lifted, Tossing like a sea! Lo, the dawn was flowering Through the maple trees! Oh, and you were showering Kisses over me! Smart Set John G. Neihardt |
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