I pray you, what ’s asleep?
The lily-pads, and riffles, and the reeds;
No longer inward do the waters creep,
No longer outwardly their force recedes,
And widowed Night, in blackness wide and deep,
Resumes her weeds.
I pray you, what ’s awake?
A host of stars, the long, long milky way
That stretches out, a glistening...
What dost thou see, lone watcher on the tower,
Is the day breaking? Comes the wished-for hour?
Tell us the signs, and stretch abroad thy hand,
If the bright morning dawns upon the land.
“The stars are clear above me; scarcely one
Has dimmed its rays in reverence to the sun;
But I yet see on the horizon’s verge
Some fair, faint streaks,...
