Page:Poems Rossetti.djvu/51

 Woke the song of mavis and merle,
And heaven put off its hodden grey
  For mother-o'-pearl.

Peeped up daisies here and there,
Here, there, and everywhere;
Rose a hopeful lark in the air,
 Spreading out towards the sun his breast;
While the moon set solemn and fair
  Away in the West.

"Up, up, up," called the watchman lark.
In his clear réveillée: "Hearken, oh hark!
Press to the high goal, fly to the mark.
 Up, O sluggard, new morn is born;
If still asleep when the night falls dark,
  Thou must wait a second morn."

"Up, up, up," sad glad voices swelled:
"So the tree falls and lies as it's felled.
Be thy bands loosed, O sleeper, long held
 In sweet sleep whose end is not sweet.
Be the slackness girt and the softness quelled
  And the slowness fleet."

Off he set. The grass grew rare,
A blight lurked in the darkening air,
The very moss grew hueless and spare,
 The last daisy stood all astunt;
Behind his back the soil lay bare,
  But barer in front.