We awake up in the twilight of the dawn; yes,
The soul looks on the twilight from its sleep,
And we slowly, as the vapours are withdrawn, guess
The wonders of the land and of the deep.
And the morning and the evening are the first day—
And morning when we run, and when we leap;
And the evening, when our times are at their worst, ay,
'Tis a view of human life to make us weep.
When the lower life rejoices in its noon, when
The pulses keep glad motion in our clay,
May the midnight of the spirit have its moon then,
And stars to light it safely on its way!
When the beauty of our earthly day is gone, where
The mortal frame is sinking to decay,
May the spirit light the body with its dawn, ere
It brighten all our being with its day.
For the spirit to the twilight of the eve wakes,—
The twilight and the perils of the night,—
And is nurtured in the darkness till it leave takes,
To rise up in its glory to the light.
So the evening and the morning are the first day—
The evening that but ushers in the fight;
And the morning when the bonds of flesh are burst, ay,
We feel that we are reading it aright.