| |
| WHEN the morning breaks above us | |
| And the wild sweet stars have fled, | |
| By the faery hands that love us | |
| Wakened you and I will tread | |
| |
| Where the lilacs on the lawn | 5 |
| Shine with all their silver dews, | |
| In the stillness of a dawn | |
| Wrapped in tender primrose hues. | |
| |
| We will hear the strange old song | |
| That the earth croons in her breast, | 10 |
| Echoed by the feathered throng | |
| Joyous from each leafy nest. | |
| |
| Earth, whose dreams are we and they, | |
| With her heart’s deep gladness fills | |
| All our human lips can say, | 15 |
| Or the dawn-fired singer trills. | |
| |
| She is rapt in dreams divine: | |
| As her clouds of beauty pass, | |
| On our glowing hearts they shine, | |
| Mirrored there as in a glass. | 20 |
| |
| So when all the vapours grey | |
| From our flowery paths shall flit, | |
| And the dawn begin the day, | |
| We will sing that song to it | |
| |
| Ere its yellow fervour flies.— | 25 |
| Oh, we are so glad of youth, | |
| Whose first sweetness never dies | |
| Nourished by eternal truth. | |
| |
