Perfecting the Past

Bring up the best part
Of all your days -
The hour before dawn
When the sky's a deep blue field
And a handful of stars
Remains over from night -
When cloud-winds cool
The doorway stone,
And the slow turning
From pale to grey
Signals the first shy bird
To call up the light.

These are new days
You're sending me -
Wide-moving clouds pull up
The whole sky after them,
Opening memories llike desert flowers
Surprised by the rain.
(How did I get to be in Vermont again
Early morning in the country?)
How else know how happy I was then
If time and what You wrought,
Like strong winds sweeping the sky,
Had not cleared the past
And brought only the best part back to me.