Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MORNING, by ALICE CARY



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MORNING, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Wake, dillie, my darling, and kiss me
Last Line: Avenges her slights.
Subject(s): Morning; God; Life


WAKE, Dillie, my darling, and kiss me,
The daybreak is nigh, --
I can see, through the half-open curtain,
A strip of blue sky.

Yon lake, in her valley-bed lying,
Looks fair as a bride,
And pushes, to greet the sun's coming,
The mist sheets aside.

The birds, to the wood-temple flying,
Their matins to chant,
Are chirping their love to each other,
With wings dropt aslant.

Not a tree, that the morning's bright edges
With silver illumes,
But trembles and stirs with its pleasure
Through all its green plumes.

Wake, Dillie, and join in the praises
All nature doth give;
Clap hands, and rejoice in the goodness
That leaves you to live.

For what is the world in her glory
To that which thou art?
Thank God for the soul that is in you, --
Thank God for your heart!

The world that had never a lover
Her bright face to kiss, --
With her splendors of stars and of noontides
How poor is her bliss!

Wake, Dillie, -- the white vest of morning
With crimson is laced;
And why should delights of God's giving
Be running to waste!

Full measures, pressed down, are awaiting
Our provident use;
And is there no sin in neglecting
As well as abuse?

The cornstalk exults in its tassel,
The flint in its spark, --
And shall the seed planted within me
Rot out in the dark?

Shall I be ashamed to give culture
To what God has sown?
When nature asks bread, shall I offer
A serpent, or stone?

For could I out-weary its yearnings
By fasting, or pain, --
Would life have a better fulfillment,
Or death have a gain?

Nay, God will not leave us unanswered
In any true need;
His will may be writ in an instinct,
As well as a creed.

And, Dillie, my darling, believe me,
That life is the best,
That, loving here, truly and sweetly,
With Him leaves the rest.

Its head to the sweep of the whirlwind
The wise willow suits, --
While the oak, that's too stubborn for bending.
Comes up by the roots.

Such lessons, each day, round about us,
Our good Mother writes, --
To show us that Nature, in some way,
Avenges her slights.





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