somewhere is dawn

the magic bird for my father is weeping
or else has joined him in that longest sleep
he sits there my memory in his keeping
but outside the night is becoming deep
dark and full of the sounds of pain
the saddest music with a cheery tone
the keys declaring that false is the strain
in the fresh dark we are all alone
i think about those folk in far-off places
who do their work for very little pay
i wonder what puts joy into their faces
or what they think of every vanished day
and wonder if i asked that they would see
myself in them as i see them in me