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To Sleep, to Rise

*Eostre-monath

Mary Naylor  confirmed

Sleep little Baby as icy winds blow,
And kneeling animals bleat lullabies.
Dream, Tiny Prince, as you're rocked to and fro,
For each in its season must sleep and rise.

Winter is a maiden of ice and snow.
Like icicles in spring, she, too, is gone.
Do you die icy maiden, full of woe,
Or melt into flowers and bumble bee songs?

Hush! Listen as the wind strums the grass.
Even Hummingbirds pause and angels sigh.
From a tomb, a great boulder is pushed back,
For the King of Men slept, He did not die!

As each in its season must sleep and rise,
So the King of Men slept, He did not die!

Published by Mary Naylor confirmed

I was born in Chicago, Illinois in 1933. I grew up in Rhinelander, Wisconsin, a wild and beautiful state, rich in literature and lore. I loved the stories of Paul Bunyon and his ox, Babe. The hoax of t...  View profile

5 Comments

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  • R.C. Johnson4/25/2011

    This is one of your very best - just superb!!! rcj

  • LarrWayne Po4/22/2011

    Excellent.

  • Mike Powers4/20/2011

    Beautifully eloquent, deeply expressive, and wonderfully poetic. Thanks!

  • Sabreen4/20/2011

    This one is Quite Beautiful and Touching!
    Thank You for Sharing!

  • Delicia Powers4/20/2011

    I had chills reading this poem Mary, it touched me to the core, beautiful...so very beautiful, thank you!

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