A SUNRISE THOUGHT AT "COVE ROCK," NEAR EAST LONDON.
King of the Golden Orient! Lo! He comes
And mounts, magnificent, his burning throne;
Smiling in glory o'er the world of waters,
Whose joyous waves leap welcome to his coming.
See how the streaming rays, his almoners,
Fling forth his largesses in flashing brilliants,
Which the waves catch, and toss from crest to crest
In dancing rapture! 'Tis a glorious sight
To see a king right welcome to his subjects;
To hear the voice of Gladness universal
Greeting his royal smile. Not sea alone,
But ocean, earth, and sky join look and voice
In smile and song. See there in the far west,
Where little cloudlets cluster, as they hang
In modest diffidence upon the outskirts
Of the vast audience-throng! they, too, are flushing
Bright with the universal joy; and, hark!
Breezes are striking their Æolian harps
Among the woofs that wave along the hills;
While the deep voices of the surge, far pealing,
Thunder their ceaseless anthem to his praise.
Brief, as befitting, is the monarch's audience;
For who may look upon the King of light
With eye unblenching? Now in massy folds,
The darkening curtains of his cloud pavilion
Gather around him; and tho' dazzling still
