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| THE MORNING sun!—the morning sun!— | |
| How o’er the earth his lustres move;— | |
| When his first glance he throws upon | |
| The bright, the glowing heaven above!— | |
| The birds seek now each verdant spray— | 5 |
| Now glide, on light and joyous wing, | |
| To pour on air their roundelay,— | |
| To wake on high their carolling! | |
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| The soul of halcyon repose | |
| Sleeps on the soft and silver air; | 10 |
| The zephyr’s breath is on the rose | |
| And on the woodbine’s blossoms fair:— | |
| The dew reflects the orient sun, | |
| Whose magic tints to it are given; | |
| O, man’s fond eye ne’er look’d upon | 15 |
| A fairer earth—a brighter heaven! | |
| |
| The morning sun—the morning sun!— | |
| Joy wakes to view his glories spread, | |
| When night hath chased the clouds of dun | |
| Whose gloomy folds waved overhead:— | 20 |
| When Nature wakes from soft repose— | |
| While sports young May in earth’s green bowers, | |
| Joy wakes to breathe the fragrant rose— | |
| The woodbine’s rich and matchless flowers:— | |
| |
| To dash, with foot-fall light, away | 25 |
| From the green sward, the dews of heaven;— | |
| To list the wild-bird’s varied lay | |
| While on the breeze their plumes are given:— | |
| How blest is joy’s o’erflowing heart, | |
| To bask beneath the golden dawn:— | 30 |
| To view the sun his light impart | |
| To the bright flowers and dewy lawn! | |
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| The dying sun—the dying sun!— | |
| How sink his languid rays to rest, | |
| When twilight throws her shroud upon | 35 |
| The pale and melancholy west; | |
| The rose that bloom’d in early May, | |
| Droops now on its deserted stem;— | |
| O’er its sere leaves and blighted spray | |
| Pours the night-wind its requiem! | 40 |
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| The birds, which sung, in summer’s light, | |
| And danced on bright and purple wing, | |
| Wake not the tuneless ear of night,— | |
| Hush’d is their blithesome carolling! | |
| Their rest is where their song hath been— | 45 |
| They sleep upon each fading flower | |
| Ah! sorrow’s eye can show no scene | |
| More welcome than pale twilight’s hour! | |
| |
| The dying sun—the dying sun!— | |
| Oh, sorrow loves its failing light— | 50 |
| It breathes a kindred glow upon | |
| The breast, wrapt in the gloom of night— | |
| Pale sorrow loves the wither’d spray— | |
| The flowers o’er which the blight hath past;— | |
| These speak of raptures past away,— | 55 |
| Of cherish’d joys too bright to last! | |
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| What though the wild-bird’s loved retreat | |
| Gives back no more their warblings dear;— | |
| The strain of gladness is not meet | |
| For sorrow’s lone and tuneless ear!— | 60 |
| Better to list the breeze of night | |
| O’er each sere leaf and dying flower;— | |
| Ah! earth can show no sadder sight | |
| Than meets the eye at twilight hour! | |
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