GRAY-VESTED Dawn, with flameless, tranquil eye, Cool hands, and dewy lips, is in the sky, A sober nun, with starry rosary. With eyes downcast and with uplifted palm, She seems to whisper now her silent psalm; Beneath her gaze the sleeping earth is calm. Her prayer is ended, and she riseth slow, And o'er the hills she quietly doth go, Noiseless and gentle as the midnight snow. Then suddenly the pale-east blushes red, The flowers to see upraise a sleepy head, The rosy colors deepen, grow, and spread. A cool breeze whispers: "She is coming now!" And then the radiant colors burn and glow, The white cast blushes over cheek and brow, And glorious on the hills the Morning stands, Her saffron hair back-blown from rosy bands, And light and joy and fragrance in her hands. Her foot has touched the hill-tops, and they shine; She comes, -- the willow rustles and the pine; She smiles upon the fields a smile divine, And all the earth smiles back; from mount to vale, From oak to shuddering grass, from glen to dale, Wet fields and flowers and glistening brooks cry "Hail!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH IMPERTURBABLE by CONRAD AIKEN CAMPUS SONNET: MAY MORNING by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET THREE SONNETS by RICHARD WILBUR THE POET SPEAKS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 3. WASHINGTON, D.C. by CLARENCE MAJOR I PAY MY DEBT FOR LAFAYETTE AND ROCHAMBEAU' by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WE HAVE GONE THROUGH GREAT ROOMS TOGETHER by CARL SANDBURG TO A LADY WHO HAD OFFERED HIM A WREATH OF LAUREL by GEORGE SANTAYANA HUFFMAN'S PHOTOGRAPH OF THE GRAVES OF THE UNKNOWN AT LITTLE BIGHORN by KAREN SWENSON |