Poems (Dodd)/Morning
For works with similar titles, see Morning.
MORNING.
'T is a fresh morn in spring-time; and I stand Where a green summit, gently swelling high,Unfolds a lovely view on either hand, To charm the fancy and delight the eye: Above me bends the blue, unclouded sky;Voices of music float upon the air; Broad-sweeping vales, spread out beneath me, lieIn the soft vernal sunshine, wondrous fair,With changeful light and shade alternate resting there.
The gentle stream, meandering along, Kisses the verdant banks upon its way;Singing, meanwhile, a low and rippling song To bending shrubs that with the eddies play. The hoary mist is floating slow away,To meet Aurora's fast advancing beams, Till the thick cloud that looked so cold and gray,A veil of silver gauze transparent gleams,And then a floating robe of vapory gold it seems
The winds are viewless, and unknown their source; The eye, however watchful, only sees The sparkling waters dimple in their course, And the sweet flowers bowed to the wooing breeze; A shower of blossoms from the laden trees,Like snow-flakes softly fall upon the ground, And the light pinions of the passing breezeSweep over them, diffusing fragrance round,Grateful as spicy gales to voyagers ocean-bound.
How gay the garden in its morning pride; The blushing rose, its fair and favored queen,With a tiara crowned, and, by her side, Unfolding buds, bedropped with jewels sheen. Surely, some gladdening spell is in the scene;The proud steed prances o'er the valley fair; The lowing herd wend to their pastures green;While all around me "swift wings fan the air,"And life, and love, and joy, are smiling every where.
Yes, 'tis a joyous world!—let praise go up To the high God from whom all blessings flow;Whose bounteous hand unsparing fills the cup With draughts of happiness for all below: From the ephemera, who merely knowA few brief hours of gladness, and no more, Sporting by myriads in the mid-day glow,And vanishing ere eventide is o'er,To man endowed with mind his goodness to adore.