by Winifred Rawlins
Dreaming is now,
Here where the sun
Through the green day
Pours out his light,
Dreaming is now;
Not when we lie
Dark to the moon,
Hid from wind,
Soft to the stars,
Dreaming is now;
When the swift words
Stream through the hours
All should be clear,
Clean to the touch,
Quick to the leap,
When will men care?
Here where the sun
Through the strong day
Pours out his breath,
All should be seen
Loosed from the clutch,
Washed from the stain,
Wings should rise free
Shorn of all weights,
Here where the sun
Through the new day
Pours out his life,
Dreaming is now;
When will men wake?
This was the title poem of Rawlins’ 1963 collection. Published by Golden Quill Press, (c) 1963. All rights reserved.