With silent awe I hail the sacred morn,
That slowly wakes while all the fields are still!
A soothing calm on every breeze is borne;
A graver murmur gurgles from the rill;
And echo answers softer from the hill;
And sweeter sings the linnet from the thorn:
The skylark warbles in a tone less shrill.
Hail, light serene! hail, sacred Sabbath...
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Up! quit thy bower! late wears the hour,
Long have the rooks cawed round the tower;
O’er flower and tree loud hums the bee,
And the wild kid sports merrily.
The sun is bright, the sky is clear;
Wake, lady, wake! and hasten here.Up, maiden fair! and bind thy hair,
And rouse thee in the breezy air!
The lulling stream that soothed... -
In the barn the tenant cock,
Close to partlet perched on high,
Briskly crows (the shepherd’s clock!)
Jocund that the morning’s nigh.Swiftly from the mountain’s brow,
Shadows, nursed by night, retire:
And the peeping sunbeam now
Paints with gold the village spire.Philomel forsakes the thorn,
Plaintive where... -
From “The Minstrel”
BUT who the melodies of morn can tell?
The wild brook babbling down the mountainside;
The lowing herd; the sheepfold’s simple bell;
The pipe of early shepherd dim descried
In the lone valley; echoing far and wide
The clamorous horn along the cliffs above;
The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide;
The... -
From “The Winter Morning Walk:” “The Task,” Bk. V.
’T IS the morning, and the sun with ruddy orb
Ascending fires the horizon; while the clouds,
That crowd away before the driving wind,
More ardent as the disc emerges more,
Resembles most some city in a blaze,
Seen through the leafless wood. His slanting ray
Slides ineffectual down the...