Morning Dove

Sing a call to a morning dove

Over the prairie, through the hills

I hear it still in the singing of the bread

From your lips which splashed my dull house

With music

I went out walking in the wood

By a river which never sleeps

All I bare, all I sieve

I thought of you so presently

I dreamt of the warmest days of our love

Which knew not sorrow nor betrayal

When truth was will in the singing of the gale

But when I lay in a verdant field

None could stay my rising

I went out walking in the wood

And the light casts long from the moon

And life is short as a breath half-taken

I could not wait to tell you truth

I have been waiting on you