  Morning has come upon us,—from the day Has rolled each darkling cloud, the orient view Unveils with gorgeous sun, and deep clear blue. But ocean riots still;—in ponderous play Thousands of heavy surges plunge away, Dazzling with snow-white foam, or swiftly woos Iris to paint all brightly tinted hues. Strangely fair magic, mid their shivered spray, Around us many a little whale-bird skims, Dipping its tiny bosom in the deep, Then instantly uprises blithe and high, Even as the heart unthralled by earthly things Will walk this troubled earth yet ever keep Its dearest home up in the azure sky. E. B. Watermeyer. [Image of decorative bar not available.] |
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