O gentle vision in the dawn: <br />My spirit over faint cool water glides, <br />Child of the day, <br />To thee; <br />And thou art drawn <br />By kindred impulse over silver tides <br />The dreamy way <br />To me. <br /> <br />I need thy hands, O gentle wonder-child, <br />For they are moulded unto all repose; <br />Thy lips are frail, <br />And thou art cooler than an April rose; <br />White are thy words and mild: <br />Child of the morning, hail! <br /> <br />Breathe thus upon mine eyelids -- that we twain <br />May build the day together out of dreams. <br />Life, with thy breath upon my eyelids, seems <br />Exquisite to the utmost bounds of pain. <br />I cannot live, except as I may be <br />Compelled for love of thee. <br />O let us drift, <br />Frail as the floating silver of a star, <br />Or like the summer humming of a bee, <br />Or stream-reflected sunlight through a rift. <br /> <br />I will not hope, because I know, alas, <br />Morning will glide, and noon, and then the night <br />Will take thee from me. Everything must pass <br />Swiftly -- but nought so swift as dawn-delight. <br />If I could hold thee till the day, <br />Is broad on sea and hill, <br />Child of repose, <br />What god can say, <br />What god or mortal knows, <br />What dream thou mightest not in me fulfil? <br /> <br />O gentle vision in the dawn: <br />My spirit over faint cool water glides, <br />Child of the day, <br />To thee; <br />And thou art drawn <br />By kindred impulse over silver tides <br />The dreamy way <br />To me.<br /><br />Harold Monro<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/child-of-dawn/
