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Oh, mystery of the morning gloam,
Of haunted air, of windless hush!
Oh, wonder of the deepening dome--
Afar, still far, the morning's flush!
My spirit hears, among the spheres,
The round earth's ever-quickening rush!


A single leaf, on yonder tree,
The planet's rush hath felt, hath heard,
And soon all branches whispering be;
That whisper wakes the nested bird--
The song of the thrush, before the blush
Of Dawn, the dreaming world hath stirred!


The old moon withers in the East--
The winds of space may drive her far!
In heaven's chancel waits the priest--
Dawn's pontiff-priest, the morning star!
And yonder, lo! a shafted glow--
The gates of Day-spring fall ajar!