Poems (Elliott)/Morning
For works with similar titles, see Morning.
Morning
When the moon hath died in splendor And the stars their brightness lose, When the dove is softly calling Answered by its mate's soft coos;
When the gently murmuring river Ripples onward to the sea, And the night wind softly whispers All its secrets unto me;
When the east is red with morning, And the sunlight doth appear, And the birds are making music In the springtime of the year;
Then my heart, with joyous beating,Rises upward from the sod,And my soul with deepest reverence Feels its oneness with our God.
Aetat 10.