Here you will find the Poem The Call of poet Jones Very
Why art thou not awake, my son? The morning breaks I formed for thee; And I thus early by thee stand, Thy new-awakening life to see. Why art thou not awake, my son? The birds upon the bough rejoice; And I thus early by thee stand, To hear with theirs thy tuneful voice. Why sleep'st thou still? the laborers all Are in my vineyard;?hear them toil, As for the poor with harvest song, They treasure up the wine and oil. I come to wake thee; haste, arise, Or thou no share with me can find; Thy sandals seize, gird on thy clothes, Or I must leave thee here behind.
