Morning Glory

Singing morning has begun. Where the wooded ranges run To far summits, there the snow Lingers yet. But down below In the quiet, green-girt places, Where full many a swift creek races From the snow-lands to the sea, Now breaks sudden harmony. Where this tree-waned clearing dreams, First a rosy promise be As young dawn steels up the sky Where the frozen ramparts lie. Now, from dew-wet leaves a-glitter, Comes a little drowsy twitter, And the first swift spear of light Wounds at last the stubborn Night. Flashing now, bright javelins Pierce the murk; and now begins - As Day's gleaming ranks deploy - Morning's canticle of joy. First a sleepy chuckle, breaking, Tells of Laughing Jack awaking, Pausing; then, from tree to tree, Leaps unbound hilarity. Here's the signal .... Morning's hush Sweetness shatters, as Grey Thrush, Vieing with the seraphim, Lifts his liquid matin hymn. Golden Whistler joins him then, Now Red Robin, now Blue Wren; Magpie's trumpet, sounding, swelling, Caps the eager chorus welling, As a wealth of varied notes Pours now from a hundred throats Up to greet their lord, the Sun, Morning, morning has begun!