When now no more th' alternate twins are fired, <br />And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze, <br />Short is the doubtful empire of the Night; <br />And soon, observant of approaching Day, <br />The meek-eyed Morn appears, mother of dews, <br />At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east: <br />Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow; <br />And, from before the lustre of her face, <br />White breaks the clouds away. With quicken'd step, <br />Brown Night retires: young Day pours in apace, <br />And opens all the lawny prospects wide. <br />The dripping rock, the mountain's misty top <br />Swell on the sight, and brighten with the dawn. <br />Blue, through the dusk, the smoking currents shine; <br />And from the bladed field the fearful hare <br />Limps, awkward; while along the forest glade <br />The wild deer trip, and often turning, gaze <br />At early passenger. Music awakes <br />The native voice of undissembled joy; <br />And thick around the woodland hymns arise. <br />Roused by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves <br />His mossy cottage, where with Peace he dwells; <br />And from the crowded fold, in order, drives <br />His flock, to taste the verdure of the morn.<br /><br />James Thomson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dawn-in-summer/
