The Unseen Threat*

The Unseen Threat

 

The lowland fox burns in the glade

Against the morning fog, and in her glow,

Two scions show like angels of the bog �"

 

Her eyes are fixed upon the woods,

 

The rain begins to fall,

 

And as I ponder this, I hear

A voice discarnate call

 

It cries, "Beware!

Though love is sweet,

It tempts a jealous lord

 

Who covets that most precious gift

That in this day is stored”

 

The lowland fox

Turns not her head,

And silently she stares,

 

Alert to that

Yet unseen threat

And to the task she bears

 

The Voice of Nature cries again,

 “Beware of everything!

 

And dearly guard

The grace within

 

This one and only spring.”