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 | 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.
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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 | |