FOUR.
Fewer and fainter the stars grow, and dimmer,
Darker, and bluer the sky and the air;
Paler each moment, till hardly a glimmer
Remains of the starlight that erst was so fair.
But the edge of the sky in the east is assuming
The hue of the heron's wing dappled with white;
Yet growing each minute more golden and blooming,
Till at last—yes it is—'tis Aurora's own light!
She has come, and a thousand soft glories attend her,
To herald the sun in his raiment of splendor.
FIVE.
The last bright hue is spent upon the sky,
In painting morning's gorgeous blazonry;
And lo! with pennons of each lovely dye
Flaunting the heavens, and crimson drapery
Floating about him, like a king of old,
Comes the day-monarch—the all-glorious Sun!
His garb of light girded with zone of gold,
And all his bright and kingly vesture on.
The flowers of earth look up with timid bliss,
And deeper blush beneath his morning kiss.
SIX.
The thirsty sun is drinking up
The rain-dew from the flower-cup;
The diamond beads on leaf and stem,
The pearls of the lily's diadem,
The gem that's laid in the star-flower's breast,
The treasures hid 'neath the rose's vest,
They are melting away: oh! maiden, wake!
Ope your dreamy eyes for this beauty's sake!
Unclose your fragrant lips, whose dye
With the fairest rose of mom might vie;
Come forth, where every thing is fair,
And prove yourself the loveliest there.
