  The dawn was a dawn of splendor, And the blue of the morning skies Was as placid and deep and tender As the blue of a baby’s eyes; The sunshine flooded the mountain, And flashed over land and sea Like the spray of a glittering fountain.— But the wind—the wind—Ah me! Like a weird invisible spirit, It swooped in its airy flight; And the earth, as the stress drew near it, Quailed as in mute affright; The grass in the green fields quivered— The waves of the smitten brook Chillily shuddered and shivered, And the reeds bowed down and shook. Like a sorrowful miserere It sobbed, and it blew and blew, Till the leaves on the trees looked weary, And my prayers were weary, too; And then, like the sunshine’s glimmer That failed in the awful strain, All the hope of my eyes grew dimmer |
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