 | The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill |  |
344
AT DAWN
I lay awake and listened, ere the lightBegan to whiten at the window pane.
The world was all asleep: earth was a fane
Emptied of worshipers; its dome of night,
Its silent aisles, were awful in their gloom.
Suddenly from the tower the bell struck four,
Solemn and slow, how slow and solemn! o'er
Those death-like slumberers, each within his room.
The last reverberation pulsed so long
It seemed no tone of earthly mould at all
But the bell woke a thrush; and with a call
He roused his mate, then poured a tide of song:
“Morning is coming, fresh, and clear, and blue,”
Said that bright song; and then I thought of you.
| The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill | |