The sound of the closing outside door was all. <br />You made no sound in the grass with your footfall, <br />As far as you went from the door, which was not far; <br />But you had awakened under the morning star <br />The first song-bird that awakened all the rest. <br />He could have slept but a moment more at best. <br />Already determined dawn began to lay <br />In place across a cloud the slender ray <br />For prying beneath and forcing the lids of sight, <br />And loosing the pent-up music of over-night. <br />But dawn was not to begin their “pearly-pearly” <br />(By which they mean the rain is pearls so early, <br />Before it changes to diamonds in the sun), <br />Neither was song that day to be self-begun. <br />You had begun it, and if there needed proof— <br />I was asleep still under the dripping roof, <br />My window curtain hung over the sill to wet; <br />But I should awake to confirm your story yet; <br />I should be willing to say and help you say <br />That once you had opened the valley’s singing day.<br /><br />Robert Lee Frost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/valley-s-singing-day-the/
