Beyond the lifted clouds the dark sweeps by, The stars grow dim in more abundant light, The paling moon shines faintly down the sky, And journeys slowly with the ghost of night. The sun, still hidden like a frightened fawn, Sheds virgin gleams about the golden feast Of nature at the freshing fount of dawn— There is a new day browsing in the east. O were the dawn a happy herald's song Of love that capers to the beck of Youth! O were the day a gladdened chord among These hollow echoes of a naked truth! And shall Love never from her largess spare Dawn's breath of glory for a moment's fare? |