A Spirit’s Voice

It is the dawn! the rosy day awakes; From her bright hair pale showers of dew she shakes, And through the heavens her early pathway takes; Why art thou sleeping! It is the noon! the sun looks laughing down On hamlet still, on busy shore, and town, On forest glade, and deep dark waters lone; Why art thou sleeping! It is the sunset! daylight's crimson veil Floats o'er the mountain tops, while twilight pale Calls up her vaporous shrouds from every vale; Why art thou sleeping! It is the night! o'er the moon's livid brow, Like shadowy locks, the clouds their darkness throw, All evil spirits wake to wander now; Why art thou sleeping!