When morning shows her first faint flush, <br />I think of the tender blush <br />That crept so gently to your cheek <br />When first my love I dared to speak; <br />How, in your glance, a dawning ray <br />Gave promise of love's perfect day. <br /> <br />When, in the ardent breath of noon, <br />The roses with passion swoon; <br />There steals upon me from the air <br />The scent that lurked within your hair; <br />I touch your hand, I clasp your form — <br />Again your lips are close and warm. <br /> <br />When comes the night with beauteous skies, <br />I think of your tear-dimmed eyes, <br />Their mute entreaty that I stay, <br />Although your lips sent me away; <br />And then falls memory's bitter blight, <br />And dark — so dark becomes the night.<br /><br />James Weldon Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/morning-noon-and-night/
