THE world at noon belongs to the sun,
At eve to the home-coming
But while the dew is pearly—very, very early—
The world belongs to the
As still as in a dream lie the meadow and
the soaring and outpouring of the birds.
long before there is life at any door,
Or smoke at any roof,
or laughing words
Of children fresh from sleeping, the outer world
In the heaven-given rapture
of the birds.