The God-enamel'd flower 
  At early dawn looks up, 
And gently would unfold 
        Its pencil'd cup;
Whilst to the sun it saith -- 
  "Arise and chase the night,
Wipe off this tear of dew --
        More light! more light!"

When twilight steals away,
  The wood-bird, singing, grieves, 
And calls the evening back
        To tint the leaves:
It saith -- "Oh, linger yet,
  I still, in airy flight,
Would bathe my golden breast --
        Stay, stay, O light!"

And thus the soul cries out,
  When dawn begins to break,
And in the sky it sees 
        The first grey streak: --
"Away, away, dark sins,
  Ye've held me long in night;
I long to walk in day --
        More light! more light!"

Then comes the life's broad noon,
  With sun and sultry beam;
And oft the soul doth err
        In act and dream:
Sun-spots arise to dim
  The perfectness of sight,
Unsatisfied, it cries -- 
        "Temper the light!"

Then evening stealeth on --
  The last hours of the strife,
When angels beckon us
        To leave this life:
Then as the soul soars up
  To heaven's most holy height,
It crieth, plaintively -- 
        "O Lord! more light!"

More light! more light! to see 
  What mystic path I tread,
What dangers hover o'er 
        My heart and head! 
Oh, stretch thy guiding hand 
  And lead me through this night;
Then bathe me in a flood 
        Of perfect light!