This birth would have been so useless, had there been no morn...

O this birth,
This thought
Of Your kind
Falling filling my mind,
Of this world, mine, born,
O this blessed lovely morn,
Only to you brings me,
As me wonders to open
my little cramped space
To Your providence,
To have a reopening
Of my book of poesy, as singing
Revealed by your thoughts, bringing
my stanzaic patterns to Your bells,
To your copper which with morn comes ringing,

And me thinks just
This life, this birth,
Would have been
mere a waste,
a sheer useless,
If You morning song,
Had there not been,
Like this festive eternal sing.