SUNRISE AT NEW LONDON.
The welkin glows! what floods of purple light,
Announce the coming of the King of Day—
The streaming rays that every moment grow
More tremulously bright, in haste uplift
The diamond-pointed spear, and swiftly run
Before his chariot. Lo! with dazzling pomp
The gates of morning burst, and forth he comes
In light ineffable, and strength supreme,
Best image of the God that rules the world.
Hill-top, and sacred spire, and monument,
Receive him first, with princely reverence,
And blushing, point him to the vales below.
The sea doth greet him, flecked with gliding sails,
That catch his radiance on their breast of snow,
While joyously the little islands touch
Their waving coronets, in loyalty.
Up go the aspiring rays, and reddening fall
On dome, and spreading tree, and cheerful haunt
Of peace and plenty. Here our fathers dwelt,
Simply in ancient times, the scattered huts
Of the dark Indian, mingling with their own.
