TO LILLIE Lovely thou art, O Dawn! As a maiden, who wakes, Opening eyes on a world Filled with wonder and light, After a sleep of dreams. Issuing, clad in a robe Of blue, and silver, and green. From the tents of God in the east Comest thou; as a thought Slippeth into the mind Of a maid, awakened from sleep, By the swallows, under the eaves, Twittering to their young; As a flower awakens in Spring, After the sweet warm rains Pass away, and the sun Lovely thou art, O Dawn! Coming shy as a maid, At nightfall, to meet her love By the ricks of clover and hay. They speak not, but hands Meet hands, mouth mouth, and desire Broods like a God in the night, Under the yellow moon: They speak not, having all things. Lovely thou art, O Dawn! Healing comes in thine hands, The wide sea laughs at thy birth, The multitudinous waves Man, too, cometh forth; but he Scarcely regards thee: with eyes Bent to the earth he comes, Busy with cares of toil, Yea, we are labourers all; Even as bees for man Gather the honey from flowers, So do we labour for God Unwittingly. Yea, and the days Bringeth to each his reward, A final sleep and a peace. Swiftly they pass, the days, Lovely thou art, O Dawn! Creating, out of the dark, This bright, and beautiful world Again: and leading each day As a bride to man, whence he Begets him wonderful deeds. And, surely, because thine hands Lead us at last to peace, Lovely thou art, O Dawn! |