WHEN the morning breaks above us <br />And the wild sweet stars have fled, <br />By the faery hands that love us <br />Wakened you and I will tread <br /> <br /> <br />Where the lilacs on the lawn <br />Shine with all their silver dews, <br />In the stillness of a dawn <br />Wrapped in tender primrose hues. <br /> <br /> <br />We will hear the strange old song <br />That the earth croons in her breast, <br />Echoed by the feathered throng <br />Joyous from each leafy nest. <br /> <br /> <br />Earth, whose dreams are we and they, <br />With her heart's deep gladness fills <br />All our human lips can say, <br />Or the dawn-fired singer trills. <br /> <br /> <br />She is rapt in dreams divine: <br />As her clouds of beauty pass, <br />On our glowing hearts they shine, <br />Mirrored there as in a glass. <br /> <br /> <br />So when all the vapours grey <br />From our flowery paths shall flit, <br />And the dawn begin the day, <br />We will sing that song to it <br /> <br /> <br />Ere its yellow fervour flies.— <br />Oh, we are so glad of youth, <br />Whose first sweetness never dies <br />Nourished by eternal truth.<br /><br />George William Russell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-golden-age-5/
