Alexander Anderson

1845-1909 / Scotland

A Perfect Day

This is a perfect day to lie
Without one single thought but eye
The wonder of the earth and sky.
The clouds that slowly form above,
Or like to snowy vessels move
Through silent seas of peace and love.
The leaf that sways upon the tree,
The very blade of grass I see,
And how it ever came to be.
The streamlets tinkling as they fall,
The birds half hidden as they call,
The winds that send a thrill through all.
The impulse that unfolds the flowers,
By cot or hall or palace towers,
This little fleeting life of ours.
I wonder for I cannot grasp
The secret hidden in their clasp—
Death only can undo the hasp.
It is enough to-day for me
To put aside the mystery,
And wonder at the things I see.
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