Lyrics of the heart With other poems. By Alaric A. Watts. With forty-one engravings on steel |
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MORNING. |
 | Lyrics of the heart |  |
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MORNING.
Morn,
Waked by the circling Hours, with rosy hand
Unbars the gates of light.
MILTON.
Waked by the circling Hours, with rosy hand
Unbars the gates of light.
MILTON.
Oh, burst the bonds of slumber,
Beloved, awake, arise!
Night's shades are furled
From the breathing world,
And 'tis morn in the Eastern skies:
Flowers, fair and without number,
Unfold their gorgeous dyes;
Morn speeds apace
On her glorious race,
Then open thy star-like eyes;
Sweet Helen, awake, arise!
Beloved, awake, arise!
Night's shades are furled
From the breathing world,
And 'tis morn in the Eastern skies:
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Unfold their gorgeous dyes;
Morn speeds apace
On her glorious race,
Then open thy star-like eyes;
Sweet Helen, awake, arise!
Rich, milk-white clouds are sailing
Like ships upon stormless seas;
The heavens grow bright
With liquid light,
And fragrance loads the breeze:
Morn's melodies prevailing,
Sweep through the trembling trees;
The lark's in the sky,
And the linnet on high,
And wilt thou be less blithe than these?
Sweet Helen, awake, arise!
Like ships upon stormless seas;
The heavens grow bright
With liquid light,
And fragrance loads the breeze:
Morn's melodies prevailing,
Sweep through the trembling trees;
The lark's in the sky,
And the linnet on high,
And wilt thou be less blithe than these?
Sweet Helen, awake, arise!
The dew-bent rose is baring
Its breast to the golden sun;
New splendours shower
On temple and tower,
And the stir of day's begun:
We'll do a deed of daring
Ere Phœbus' race be run;
Our bark's below,
And the breezes blow,
And our goal will soon be won:—
Sweet Helen, awake, arise!
Its breast to the golden sun;
New splendours shower
On temple and tower,
And the stir of day's begun:
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Ere Phœbus' race be run;
Our bark's below,
And the breezes blow,
And our goal will soon be won:—
Sweet Helen, awake, arise!
What recks it to hearts like ours,
Where we resolve to flee?
Not far we'll roam
For a blissful home,
Since Paradise dwells with thee!
We'll steer for Pleasure's bowers,
With Hope, through Life's dark sea;
And Love shall guide
Us through the tide,
And our trusty Pilot be:
Sweet Helen, awake, arise!
Where we resolve to flee?
Not far we'll roam
For a blissful home,
Since Paradise dwells with thee!
We'll steer for Pleasure's bowers,
With Hope, through Life's dark sea;
And Love shall guide
Us through the tide,
And our trusty Pilot be:
Sweet Helen, awake, arise!
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