Page:Poems Bushnell.djvu/61

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The New Day

What though the perfect day is yet unborn!
Sweet were the carolled vision of the bird;
Glad are the tidal colors of the mom,
And heaven is pledged without a single word.

The waves of light are breaking on the shore,
Pulsing in cadence to a mightier flow—
The strong uplift of nobler hopes before,
The great new future rising in the glow.

Above the hills surges the day at last,
The longed-for day, effulgent, high and wide.
Turn, turn, gray earth, and leave the darkened past,
And swing thyself upon the incoming tide!

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