O now the crimson east, its fire-streak burning,
Tempts me to wander 'neath the blushing morn,
Winding the zig-zag lane, turning and turning,
As winds the crooked fence's wilder'd thorn.
Where is the eye can gaze upon the blushes,
Unmov'd, with which yon cloudless heaven flushes?
I cannot pass the very bramble, weeping
'Neath dewy tear-drops that its spears surround,
Like harlot's mockery on the wan cheek creeping,
Gilding the poison that is meant to wound; -
I cannot pass the bent, ere gales have shaken
Its transient crowning off, each point adorning, -
But all the feelings of my soul awaken,
To own the witcheries of most lovely Morning.
Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)
Text added to the website: 2008-07-22 00:00:00.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:02:48
Line count: 14
Word count: 110
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