Dawn with a jubilant shout Leaps on the shivering sea And puffs the last pale planet out And scatters the flame-bright clouds about Like the leaves of a frost-bitten tree. Does a gold seed split the rosy husk? Nay, a sword ... a shield ... a spear! The kindler of all fires that burn Deep in the day's cerulean urn Rides up across the clear And tramples down the cowering dusk Like a strong-browed charioteer. Blow out and far away The dim, the dull, the dun; Prosper the crimson, blight the gray, And blow us clean of yesterday, Stern morning fair begun, Till the earth is an opal bathed in dew, Flashing with emerald, gold, and blue, Held where the skies wash through and through High up against the sun. |