Page:Poems McDonald.djvu/24

 'Tis morn, the gates of light are opened wide—
 See from the orient comes the god of day!
 He mounts his dazzling chariot to ride,
 Like a proud monarch, his appointed way:
 Onward he journeys, till his noontide ray
 Pierces each leafy screen, each wooded dell,
 Then westward rolling, pass the heats away;
 And when chimes clearly out the vesper bell,
'Mid clouds of gorgeous hue, he bids the world farewell.

 Night curtains earth again, each weary child
 Of frail mortality it calls to rest;
 And now the moon's pale crescent undefiled,
 Hangs like a silver boat in the cool west;
 Or, older waxing, pours her radiance blest,
 Where city streets lie silent 'neath her beams,
 Robing all nature in her spotless veșt,
 And mirrored in a thousand mighty streams,
And lighting ocean's foam, and on the white sail gleams.

 Nor cometh she alone—the stars are there,
 Those flaming jewels set by God on high;