Poems (Browning)/At Early Morn

by Eunice Browning

The Sea
At Early Morn

Before the Morn a wingéd rest Has shaken from her mantled crest,The dewy diamond robe of sleep, Then, in the greying dawn I creepA silent wanderer to the sea; But wide the tide has passed from me,And passing, left a kingly throne, The rocks worn old and dull with foam,The cold, moist caverns, vague and dim, Where, with the sun, the waves withinTheir mighty halls will thunder past, And reach a promised home at last.