This unimportant morning <br />Something goes singing where <br />The capes turn over on their sides <br />And the warm Adriatic rides <br />Her blue and sun washing <br />At the edge of the world and its brilliant cliffs. <br /> <br />Day rings in the higher airs <br />Pure with cicadas, and slowing <br />Like a pulse to smoke from farms, <br /> <br />Extinguished in the exhausted earth, <br />Unclenching like a fist and going. <br /> <br />Trees fume, cool, pour - and overflowing <br />Unstretch the feathers of birds and shake <br />Carpets from windows, brush with dew <br />The up-and-doing: and young lovers now <br />Their little resurrections make. <br /> <br />And now lightly to kiss all whom sleep <br />Stitched up - and wake, my darling, wake. <br />The impatient Boatman has been waiting <br />Under the house, his long oars folded up <br />Like wings in waiting on the darkling lake.<br /><br />Lawrence Durrell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/this-unimportant-morning/
