TIP-TOE on morning star, 'mid purpling light, The day queen throws her kisses to the world, Then stands abashed a moment, as in plight From maiden shyness, while around is furl'd The fleecy lace of clouds, with skirts of blue Trailing adown to hills of azure hue. A sudden flirting of a dew-wet wing, As out from leafy bush or hedge-thatched lair The throbbing throats at once begin to sing And distant pipes fall on the sweet, cool air. The cattle rise from shaded beds along, And add their cow-bell cymbals to the song. Deep spreads the blush around Aurora's cheeks, Purpling the bloom of ripen'd lips—and then Closer she draws her drapery as she seeks To hide her beauty from the eyes of men. And lo! the jealous sun leaps up to fold Her melting glory in his arms of gold. |