Poem Hunter
The Dawn Chorus
(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

The Dawn Chorus

Poem By Angela Wybrow

Dawn is the time when darkness becomes light;
A time when darkness disappears from sight.
The ashen veil slowly fades away,
To reveal another brand new day.

Up in the trees, the little birds awake,
And a pretty chorus, they now do make.
There is no other music on earth, quite as sweet,
As their cheerful chorus of twitters and tweets.

To the birds' pretty chorus, I lend an ear,
And am filled inside with joy and cheer.
The little birds are so jolly when they sing;
I wonder if they know of the joy they bring?

It is a treat to hear the birds trilling in the trees;
The sound is carried to my ears, upon the breeze.
Their symphony is carried aloft to where I lay;
Such sweet music, no instrument can ever play.

I do not often wake that early in the morn;
To witness another new day being born.
It is a magical time of the day, I think,
But, I am often still having forty winks.

So, for me, to hear their music is very rare,
But, I consider it beautiful, beyond compare.
Maybe, I should make a date, and set my alarm,
So as, more often, by their songs, I am charmed.

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