Page:Poems Blagden.djvu/102

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72

THE MORNING MOON.
Amid the morning's bloom and splendour
The wan pale moon a shade has cast;
A revelation sad, yet tender,
Of Love's unburied mournful past.

She comes with mute reproachful face,
A boding ghost 'mid morning's beam;
Thou strong Noonday, arise and chase
That saddening enervating gleam!

I have a work which must be done,
All soft regrets I backward cast,
And let the Present, with its sun,
Outshine the weak unworthy Past.

That fond vain Past I must live down
Until is spent my work-day light;
Then will it shine, my martyr-crown,
The moon of Death's redeemèd night.