My Own Song
Oh, glad am I
that I was born !
For who is sad
when flaming morn
Burst forth
,or when the mighty might
Carries the
soul from height to height!
To me , as to
the child that sings ,
The bird that
claps his rain-washed wings ,
The breeze
that curls the sun-tipped flower,
Comes some new
joy with each new hour .
Joy in the
beauty of the earth ,
Joy in the
fire upon the hearth ,
Joy in that
potency of love
In which I live and breathe and move !
Joy even in
the shapeless thought
That ,some day
,when all tasks are wrought ,
I shall
explore that vasty deep.
Beyond the
frozen gates of sleep .
For joy
attunes all beating things ,
With me each
rhythmic atom sings ,
From glow till
gloom ,from mirk till morn;
Oh , I am glad
that I was born
Jan Bagwell
God Bless !
