What joy it must be to sail, upborne, By a strong free wing, through the rosy morn, To meet the young sun, face to face, And pierce, like a shaft, the boundless space!

To-morrow's light (O haste the glorious morn!)

SEE Wilson, Ira B. How calm and beautiful the morn.

the blue-eyed morn again.

As yet the trembling year is unconfirmed, And Winter oft at eve resumes the breeze, Chills the pale morn, and bids his driving sleets Deform the day delightless; so that scarce The bittern knows his time, with bill engulfed, To shake the sounding marsh, or from the shore The plovers when to scatter

The blushing childhood of the cheerful morn Is almost grown a youth, and overclimbs[180] Yonder gilt eastern hills; about which time Gustus most earnestly importun'd me To meet him hereabouts, what cause I know not.

For Aliatar, one sad morn, Mounted his steed and blew his horn; A hundred Moors behind him rode; Fleeter than wind their coursers strode.

Yes; I think you are constant, true and good, I am tired, and would love you if I could; I am tired, oh, friend, tired out; and yet, Can we make sweet morn of the dim sunset?

" No radiant pearl, which crested Fortune wears, No gem, that twinkling hangs from Beauty's ears, Not the bright stars, which Night's blue arch adorn, 460 Nor rising suns that gild the vernal morn, Shine with such lustre as the tear, that breaks For other's woe down Virtue's manly cheeks.

At length the world, renew'd by calm repose, Was strong for toil, the dappled morn arose; Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept, 150 Near the closed cradle where an infant slept, And writhed his neck: the landlord's little pride Oh, strange return!grew black, and gasp'd, and died.

These way-side blossoms amulets are of price; They lead to pleasure, yet from dangers warn; Turn toil to bliss, this earth to Paradise, And sunset death to heaven's eternal morn.

Ne'e shall my heart the fatal morn forget That bore the fair ones from these seats so dear

In the hopeful morn of Youth, This serious Song I lov'd and learn'd, Nor ever thought the mournful truth Would ever thus by me be mourn'd.

too early in his prime, Now lying dead beneath yon sculptured stone, But living in the hearts of the small group In the old Minster on this sunny morn.

The happy dreams that round me lay On that delicious morn of May!" "I saw thee!

Perhaps because the spot suggests That other tiny isle, Upon whose shore forever rests The Sun-God's tender smile, Fair Delos, where, one fabled morn, Both he and Artemis were born.

Sweet's the dawn's ambiguous light, Quiet pause 'tween day and night, When afar the mellow horn Chides the tardy gaited morn,

But while the seamen crouched to sleep, Conn sat alone in reverie deep, And saw before him in a maze The mute procession of his days, In gloom and glamour wending fast His heart a-hungering for the past Again he leapt, a tender boy, To greet his sire with eager joy, When he came over the wide North Sea, Enriched with spoils of victory Then heavily loomed that fateful morn When tidings of his fall were borne From Alban shore ...

I used to hail the festal morn How must Mohammed greet it now?

Yet through the night and through the day, The dog was never seen "He is not wont to stay away, Where can the dog have been?" On the fourth morn this faithful friend, As usual whined for meat They mark the way his footsteps tend, And follow his retreat.

A PASTORAL ELEGY. 'Twas on a joyless and a gloomy morn, Wet was the grass, and hung with pearls the thorn; When Damon, who design'd to pass the day With hounds and horns, and chase the flying prey, Rose early from his bed; but soon he found The welkin pitch'd with sullen clouds around, An eastern wind, and dew upon the ground.

Safe from your door ye hear at breezy morn, 1793.]

I sought the long clear twilights of the North, When, from its nest of trees, my father's house Sees the Aurora deepen into dawn Far northward in the East, o'er the hill-top; And fronts the splendours of the northern West, Where sunset dies into that ghostly gleam That round the horizon creepeth all the night Back to the jubilance of gracious morn.

Yet not more dear the opening dawn of heaven Poured on the earth in an Italian May, When souls take wings upon the scented air Of starry meadows, and the yearning heart Pains with deep sweetness in the balmy time, Than these gray morns, and days of misty blue, And surges, never-ceasing;for our prow Points to the sunset like a morning ray,

Behold the hallowed morn!