| Higginson and Bigelow, comps. American Sonnets. 1891. | | | | At Dawn | | By Sylvia Lawson Covey |
| | | NIGHT shadows fly. The air is crisp and sweet | |
| With orange fragrance. Golden apples gird | |
| The waxen whiteness of new buds, just stirred | |
| By zephyr’s finger. See him, winging fleet | |
| To where the roses at the house-roof meet,— | 5 |
| That feathered joy, the jocund mocking-bird! | |
| Such songs ecstatic day hath never heard, | |
| Rippling across wide fields of springing wheat. | |
| And still she lingers, loth to rise and fold | |
| The curtaining mist from off the mountain snows; | 10 |
| Flushing with pink the granite gray and old, | |
| Ere low she stoops to paint yon opening rose. | |
| Now from pale clouds the pearl tints fade away, | |
| The garden lies in morning’s garish ray! | | | | |
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