As Dawn Does Stir The Sleeping Night

As dawn does stir the sleeping night That gripped the woodland with its chill Through faintest mist and frosted trees The ghostly sun does rise, That creeps above horizon dark Where shadows seem to linger on While branch and bough do reach unto The pallid winter skies. So still the air the gentle hush As silver slowly yields to blue Which clears the way for beams to shine And frozen land to thaw, The robin finds a lowly perch And there forlornly casts his eyes Then turns the twigs and lifts the leaves Which lie upon the floor. With amber fern now wilted which Do line the winding wooded track And bow their crowns which glisten in The early morning light, Upon the way a puddle lies And iced within a shallow mould All cracked and crazed too cold the morn To free it from its plight. I look towards the fallen oak Which fell yet but a month ago And there its mighty root exposed To which the earth does cling, And as it lies within its grave Its leaves shall never turn to green Nor shall it bear its fruit again Or see the coming spring.