A Song Of The New Day

The tender Sorrows of the twilight leave me, And shall I want the fanning of smooth wings? Shall I not miss sweet sorrows? Will it grieve me To hear no cooing from soft dove-like things?

Let Evening hear them! O wide Dawn uprisen, Know me all thine; and ye, whose level flight Has pierced the drear hours and the cloudy prison, Cry for the pathless spaces and the light!