Poem: L'envoi

L’Envoi

There’s a whisper of evening in the meadows
There’s a sigh of the wind in the trees
There’s the blue of the dusk on the hill tops
A blue haze fanned by a breeze

Each wild flower closes its petals
Each tired bird wings to its nest
God made each have an ending
Because the weary need rest

The cows are lowing on the uplands
The sheep are bleating in the fold -
Who would have thought the song would end so swiftly?
Who would have thought the tale so swift be told?

So ends the day of mortal toil and scheming
So ends the book that someone made by dreaming

January 1931