Princess of the Morning Light,
Lean sparkling from thy throne of mist,
The valley roses wait thee to be kissed.
The jasmine stills its chime of bells.
The palm-tree droops its wide-plumed head,
And the mountain, thro its crags and fells,
Thrills longing for thy downward tread,
Princess of the Morning.

Princess of the Morning Light,
Joy wakens to thy breeze-blown hair,
Thy fresh-drawn breath gives rapture to the air,
The heaving of thy bosom fills
The bird- folk with a silver song,
And to thy voice the rivers and the rills
Leap into laughter sweet and long,
Princess of the Morning.

Princess of the Morning Light,
How may I woo thee to be mine,
And ever drink thy golden rays like wine,
And keep thee mistress of my soul.
Yea, I would slay the Emperor of Night,
And storm his castle where the thunders roll,
To win thee for my heart's delight,
Princess of the Morning.