Morn at Sea

Clearly, with mental eye,
Where the first slanted ray of sunlight springs,
I see the morn with golden-fringed wings
Up-pointed to the sky.

In youth's divinest glow,
She stands upon a wandering cloud of dew,
Whose skirts are sun-illumed with every hue
Worn by God's covenant bow!

The child of light and air!
O'er land or wave, where'er her pinions move,
The shapes of earth are clothed in hues of love
And truth, divinely fair.

Athwart this wide abyss,
On homeward way impatiently I drift;
O, might she bear me now where sweet flowers lift
Their eyelids to her kiss!

Her smile hath overspread
The heaven-reflecting sea, that evermore
Is tolling solemn knells from shore to shore
For its uncoffm'd dead.

Most like an angel-friend,
With noiseless footsteps, which no impress leave,
She comes in gentleness to those who grieve,
Bidding the long night end.

How joyfully will hail,
With reenliven'd hearts, her presence fair,
The hapless shipwreck'd, patient in despair,
Watching a far-off sail.

Vain all affection's arts
To cheer the sick man through the night have been:
She to his casement goes, and, looking in,
Death's shadow thence departs.

How many, far from home,
Wearied, like me, beneath unfriendly skies,
And mourning o'er affection's broken ties,
Have pray'd for her to come.

Lone voyager on time's sea!
When my dull night of being shall be past,
O, may I waken to a morn, at last,
Welcome as this to me!