I

Come up, dear chosen morning, come, Blessing the air with light, And bid the sky repent of being dark: Let all the spaces round the world be white, And give the earth her green again. Into new hours of beautiful delight, Out of the shadow where she has lain, Bring the earth awake for glee, Shining with dews as fresh and clear As my beloved's voice upon the air. For now, O morning chosen of all days, on thee A wondrous duty lies: There was an evening that did loveliness foretell; Thence upon thee, O chosen morn, it fell To fashion into perfect destiny The radiant prophecy. For in an evening of young moon, that went Filling the moist air with a rosy fire, I and my beloved knew our love; And knew that thou, O morning, wouldst arise To give us knowledge of achieved desire. For, standing stricken with astonishment, Half terrified in the delight, Even as the moon did into clear air move And made a golden light, Lo there, croucht up against it, a dark hill, A monstrous back of earth, a spine Of hunchèd rock, furred with great growth of pine, Lay like a beast, snout in its paws, asleep; Yet in its sleeping seemed it miserable, As though strong fear must always keep Hold of its heart, and drive its blood in dream. Yea, for to our new love, did it not seem, That dark and quiet length of hill, The sleeping grief of the world?--Out of it we Had like imaginations stept to be Beauty and golden wonder; and for the lovely fear Of coming perfect joy, had changed The terror that dreamt there! And now the golden moon had turned To shining white, white as our souls that burned With vision of our prophecy assured: Suddenly white was the moon; but she At once did on a woven modesty Of cloud, and soon went in obscured: And we were dark, and vanisht that strange hill. But yet it was not long before There opened in the sky a narrow door, Made with pearl lintel and pearl sill; And the earth's night seem'd pressing there,-- All as a beggar on some festival would peer,-- To gaze into a room of light beyond, The hidden silver splendour of the moon. Yea, and we also, we Long gazed wistfully Towards thee, O morning, come at last, And towards the light that thou wilt pour upon us soon!