When sunshine falls upon a spread
Of yellow prairie flowers,
It fills me with that silent peace
That graces morning hours.
The sunshine and the flowers, each,
Impress my mind and sight,
But one without the other tells
The tragedy of light.
To see a mother fondle child,
One nuzzle to the other,
Dispensing freely of the love
That touches every mother,
Is like the sunshine on a spread
Of yellow prairie flowers,
That blends its silence into peace
That graces morning hours.
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