Songs of the Summer Days: III

The morn awakes like brooding dove,
With outspread wings of gray;
Her feathery clouds close in above,
And roof a sober day.

No motion in the deeps of air!
No trembling in the leaves!
A still contentment everywhere,
That neither laughs nor grieves!

A film of sheeted silver gray
Shuts in the ocean's hue;
White-winged feluccas cleave their way
In paths of gorgeous blue.

Dream on, dream on, O dreamy day,
Thy very clouds are dreams!
Yon child is dreaming far away--
He is not where he seems.