In the Morning by Willis Boyd Allen - HTML preview

IN THE MORNING.

Twas morn,

And day was born.

Bright in the west the stars still burned,

But ever, as the great earth turned,

The eastern mountain-tops grew dark

Against the rosy heaven—and hark!

A single note from flute-toned thrush

Drops downward through the twilight hush;

Half praise, half prayer, I heard the song:

“Oh, sweet, sweet,

Oh, life is sweet, and joy is long!”

The sun

Touched one by one

The firs along the distant crest,—

A silent host, with lance at rest;

Flashed all the world with jewels rare,

Quivered with joy the maiden-hair

Beside the brook that downward sprang

And rippling o’er its mosses, sang

With silvery laugh the same glad song:

“Oh, sweet, sweet,

Oh, life is sweet, and joy is long!”

When lo!

Swift, to and fro,

A sombre shadow crossed its path,

Deep thunders rolled in awful wrath,

The thrush beneath the fir-trees crept,

The maiden-hair bowed low and wept;

The heavens were black, the earth was gray

The hills all blanched in the spectral day,—

The night-wind rose, and wailed this song:

“Oh, long, long,

Oh, joy is fleeting, life so long!”

Behold,

A shaft of gold

Shot through the wrack of cloud and storm,

The heart of heaven beat quick and warm;

From bird and stream, with myriad tongue,

The glad day carolled, laughed, and sung.

’Twas morning still! Her tear-drops bright

The maiden-hair raised to the light;

I heard, half prayer, half praise, the song:

“Oh, sweet, sweet,

Oh, life is sweet, and joy is long!”