Morning on the Circle

The sun rises to the east and lights up the garden.

The Sunflowers by Ethelwyn Wetherald
When lamps are out and voices fled,
And moonlight floods the earth like rain,
I steal outside and cross the lane
And stand beside the sunflower bed;
Each blind, unopened face is turned
To where the western glories burned,
As though the sun might come again,
With some last word he left unsaid.When Dawn with slender shining hand
Inscribes a message on the wall,
  I follow at the silent call
To where my tall sun-lovers stand.
Their wistful heads are lifted high
Toward the flaming eastern sky,
As though some voice had turned them all,
Some secret voice of strong command.Ah, should I from the windowed height
Keep vigil in the room above,
And see them lightly, surely move
Through the chill stretches of the night,
Would not the heart within me burn,
As loyally I watched them turn,
With sweet undoubting faith and love
From vanished light to dawning light?I try to leave out the parts that people skip. Elmore Leonard

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