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...THE AUDACIOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EARTH IS ENOUGH by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: THE CONVENT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS ERASMUS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON ADELAIDE CRAPSEY by CARL SANDBURG FROM THE SHORE by CARL SANDBURG |