In the silver light after a storm, <br />Under dripping boughs of bright new green, <br />I take the low path to hear the meadowlarks <br />Alone and high-hearted as if I were a queen. <br />What have I to fear in life or death <br />Who have known three things: the kiss in the night, <br />The white flying joy when a song is born, <br />And meadowlarks whistling in silver light.<br /><br />Sara Teasdale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/meadowlarks/
