Page:Poems E. L. F.djvu/50

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MORNING.
Awake, awake! ye slumberers, wake!
And to the ethereal strain give ear,
Which issues forth from yonder glade—
The feathered songsters' chorus hear.

Awake, awake! the sun hath risen;
Effulgent light is shed around:
The mountain-clouds afar are driven;
The dew is swept from off the ground.

The lark is soaring far mid air,
And onward takes its solar flight:
Fly, morning harbinger! and scare
The slumbers from the slothful wight.

The flowers a brighter hue do wear,
And, breathing incense, scent the air;

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