The Art of the Dawn
When the earth-mind awakes its senses
And the dim rustle of the leaves are heard on the forest floor
Time taught itself the eternity of the hours
That is poured from a wonder-cup in the helms of fire
A mystic song of prayer is hymned by the oxlips and the grasses
Down the river banks of a swelling tide
And mountains that stood like rocks carved by the great eye of the splendor of the Lord
Are flashed by rays of the Supreme Dawn.
- Joy Roy Choudhury
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