The morning came. Its footsteps scared away
The gentle sleep that hovered lightly o'er me;
I left my quiet cot to greet the day,
And gaily climbed the mountainside before me.
The sweet young flowers! how fresh were they and tender,
Brimful with dew upon the sparkling lea;
The young day opened in exulting splendour,
And all around seemed glad to gladden me.
And, as I mounted, o'er the meadow ground
A white and filmy essence 'gan to hover;
It sailed and shifted till it hemmed me round,
Then rose above my head, and floated over.
No more I saw the beauteous scene unfolded—
It lay beneath a melancholy shroud;
And soon was I, as if in vapour moulded,
Alone, within the twilight of the cloud.
At once, as though the sun were struggling through,
Within the mist a sudden radiance started;