From dewy dreams, my soul, arise, From love's deep slumber and from death, For lo! the trees are full of sighs Whose leaves the morn admonisheth. Eastward the gradual dawn prevails Where softly-burning fires appear, Making to tremble all those veils Of grey and golden gossamer. While sweetly, gently, secretly, The flowery bells of morn are stirred And the wise choirs of faery Begin (innumerous!) to be heard. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LITTLE BOY LOST, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE CORNELIAN by GEORGE GORDON BYRON THE EXILE'S SONG by ROBERT GILFILLAN THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 23. LOVE'S BAUBLES by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE RAZOR-SELLER by JOHN WOLCOTT THE PRELUDE: BOOK 1. CHILDHOOD AND SCHOOL-TIME by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |