Day, Evening, Night, Morning

The gray dawn on the mountain top
   Is slow to pass away.
Still lays him by in sluggish dreams,
   The golden God of day.

And then a light along the hills,
   Your laughter silvery gay;
The Sun God wakes, a bluebird trills,
You come and it is day.

The moon begins her stately ride
  Across the summer sky;
The happy wavelets lash the shore, -- 
  The tide is rising high.

Beneath some friendly blade of grass
  The lazy beetle cowers;
The coffers of the air are filled
  With offerings from the flowers.

And slowly buzzing o'er my head
  A swallow wings her flight;
I hear the weary plowman sing
  As falls the restful night.

Silence, and whirling worlds afar
  Through all encircling skies.
What floods come o'er the spirit's bar,
  What wondrous thoughts arise.

The earth, a mantle falls away,
  And, winged, we leave the sod;
Where shines in its eternal sway
  The majesty of God.

The mist has left the greening plain,
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
The coquette rose awakes again
   Her lovely self adorning.
The Wind is hiding in the trees,
A sighing, soothing, laughing tease,
Until the rose says "Kiss me, please,"
'Tis morning, 'tis morning.

With staff in hand and careless-free,
The wanderer fares right jauntily,
For towns and houses are, thinks he,
   For scorning, for scorning.
My soul is swift upon the wing,
And in its deeps a song I bring;
Come, Love, and we together sing,
   "'Tis morning, 'tis morning."