The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | ||
VI.
I
A low sweet voice from out the brakeProvoked a loud reply:
Now half the birds are half awake;
They feel the morning nigh.
II
Fainting beneath her load of dreamsThe Moon inclines her brows,
Expectant, towards those mightier beams
That grant her toils repose.
270
III
Long streaks, the prophets of the Sun,Illume the dusk, grey hill:
But still the heart of Heaven is dun;
The day is virgin still!
IV
O Christ! ere yet beheld on earthHow oft, incarnate Word,
Thy Prophets heralded Thy birth!
Alas, how seldom heard!
V
Rise, holy Brethren, rise, and singA prayer: and while we pray
The morn shall fan with heavenly wing
Our lethargy away.
VI
Burst Thou, O God, these chains of flesh!These languid eyes inspire:
Our spirits make as morning fresh,
And pure as solar fire:
VII
And grant us, fronting thus the East,When all the heavenly Powers
Come forth to deck the bridal feast,
A place among Thy bowers!
VIII
Come, Lord and Master! come and takeAt last Thy ransomed home:
Bid all Thy faithful dead awake;
And may Thy Kingdom come!
The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | ||