The Early Risers Now Are Blest

The early risers now are blest

When morning´s rays creep toward the west.

For early is the only hour

That one may toil with all one´s pow´r.

By midday Sunna´s heat will scorch,

So strongly now doth burn her torch.

All afternoon the red will climb;

We´ll wistf´ly dream of winter´s rime.

No warning giv´n, the sun doth hide.

What woe does this black cloud betide?

No woe - ´tis mighty Asa-Thor.

His wain approaches with a roar.

The wind strips leaves from all the trees-

This is no gentle summer breeze.

Blue-tinged bolts flash; great raindrops fall;

The summer storm refreshes all.

The clouds have fled; the sun sinks low.

Where did today´s long hours go?

As insects sing the land to sleep

Our dream to hidden worlds may leap.

© Analemma McKee-Schwenke 

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