Poem: “Morning” by Sara Teasdale (American, 1884-1933)

 I went out on an April morning

All alone, for my heart was high.

I was a child of the shining meadow,

I was a sister of the sky.

 

There in the windy flood of morning

Longing lifted its weight from me,

Lost as sob in the midst of cheering,

Swept as a sea-bird out to sea.