The morn has chased the shades of night,
The streams grow bright beneath her eye;
A golden veil of purple light
Hangs o'er the rosy eastern sky.
To catch the sun's awakening rays
Upon the turf still wet with dew,
With trembling haste the rose displays
Her crimson chalice to the view.
A sweeter zephyr fills the place,
The birds in sweeter concert sing,
More closely in a fond embrace
Around the elm the vine doth cling.
Amid these shades so calm and still,
All things partake of my delight--
Fresh turf, fair sky, transparent rill,--
Ah! can you know she comes to-night?
The above published source is public domain under the terms of
Title 17, United States Code, Section 304(b).
The transcriber does not claim to know the copyright status of this
publication outside of the United States.
Published in 1999 by
Dennis McCarthy
No Rights Reserved! I release this file to the public domain.
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