Poems (Bushnell)/The New Day
For works with similar titles, see The New Day.
XXIIITHE NEW DAY
Silent has been the night, and O, so long!
With weary moon forever sailing west;
Save that a bird at midnight trilled a song,
A dream of daylight, from his moonlit nest.
With weary moon forever sailing west;
Save that a bird at midnight trilled a song,
A dream of daylight, from his moonlit nest.
The hills lay couched in slumber, range on range,
The earth was floating in a silver web,—
That mystery of calm before a change,
That lull of waters at the lowest ebb.
The earth was floating in a silver web,—
That mystery of calm before a change,
That lull of waters at the lowest ebb.
Some drowsy notes were all the bird could sing,
Soft as the scattered drops of summer dew;
Then, hushed within the quiet of his wing,
He sang no more; but now the dream comes true.
Soft as the scattered drops of summer dew;
Then, hushed within the quiet of his wing,
He sang no more; but now the dream comes true.
A thrill runs through the spaces of the night,
And flutters on the wavy eastern line;
Beyond the stars dilates a distant light,
The luminous outflow of a day divine.
And flutters on the wavy eastern line;
Beyond the stars dilates a distant light,
The luminous outflow of a day divine.
With slow approach it deepens into bloom,
Faint jasmine yellow, with a flush of rose;
And, brightening till it makes the stars a gloom,
O'er all the long uncertainty it flows.
Faint jasmine yellow, with a flush of rose;
And, brightening till it makes the stars a gloom,
O'er all the long uncertainty it flows.
What though the perfect day is yet unborn!
Sweet were the carolled vision of the bird;
Glad are the tidal colors of the mom,
And heaven is pledged without a single word.
Sweet were the carolled vision of the bird;
Glad are the tidal colors of the mom,
And heaven is pledged without a single word.
The waves of light are breaking on the shore,
Pulsing in cadence to a mightier flow—
The strong uplift of nobler hopes before,
The great new future rising in the glow.
Pulsing in cadence to a mightier flow—
The strong uplift of nobler hopes before,
The great new future rising in the glow.
Above the hills surges the day at last,
The longed-for day, effulgent, high and wide.
Turn, turn, gray earth, and leave the darkened past,
And swing thyself upon the incoming tide!
The longed-for day, effulgent, high and wide.
Turn, turn, gray earth, and leave the darkened past,
And swing thyself upon the incoming tide!