The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir | ||
299
THE MATIN CAROL.
I
The splendid matin sunIs mounting upward through the orient skies;
The young day is begun,
And shadowy twilight from the landscape flies.
II
No more the grey owls roam,Seeking their prey 'mid duskiness and shade;
The bat hath hied him home,
And in some creviced pile a resting made.
III
Haste, then, my love, O! haste;The dews are melting from the fresh green grass:
Arise—no longer waste
The pleasant hours that thus so sweetly pass.
300
IV
The frolic hare peeps out,Out from her leafy covert, and looks round;
The wild birds flit about,
And fill the clear soft air with gentlest sound.
V
Come, love! of softest blue,Beneath the bordering trees, the stream flows on;
The night-hawk thou may'st view,
Sitting in stirless silence on his stone.
VI
The lark soars up, soars up,With twinkling pinions to salute the morn;
Over its foxglove cup
The wild bee hangs, winding its tiny horn.
VII
Bright flowers of every dye,Blossoms of odours sweet are breathing round;
The west wind wanders by,
And, kissing, bends their lithe stalks to the ground.
VIII
All things of bliss, and love,And gentleness, and harmony proclaim;
Echo, from out the grove,
Murmurs, as I repeat thy dear-loved name.
301
IX
Haste, then, beloved, haste;Come to these cooling shades, and wander free:
My spirit will not taste
Earth's cup of joy till first 'tis kiss'd by thee!
The Poetical Works of David Macbeth Moir | ||