The dawn had barely woke; the moon afar--
A silver crescent on the lonely sky--
Forsaken was by her vast company;
But one alone remained--the morning star.
From out the east arose a crimson glow
That, falling softly on the lake, awoke
Not e'en the earliest singing-bird, nor broke
The deep tranquility of Time's dull flow.
Most solemn hush! "Is this the death of Night?"
I said within my heart; "In Autumn-time
The woods grow crimson weeping summer's flight,
While earth droops wearily and sighs forlorn."
With wand-like touch, a flood of light sublime
Dissolved the spell, and hailed the birth of Morn!
