At mornings there are times when I
Upon my couch, rejected lie,
And ponder o’er the many schemes
That filled my days and were my dreams.
I spied a bird that paused in flight,
He battled not with conscience‘ might.
I climbed a tree that was so tall
And cried because my aims were small.
I heard a song that had no tune
And wished upon some waning moon
To be a bird and restless fly
Against God’s canvas of the sky.
There, seek to find another day
Or mayhaps learn the better way
To fill my life with keener zest,
Perform great deeds before my rest.
I will to you this last reply
To neither question nor deny
That days of man are wasted spent
To wonder where his lifetime went,
Whereas each bird doth leave behind
Abundant seed the rain will find.