Thou that of twilight art fashioned,
Starlight and moonlight and mist,
Soul the high gods have impassioned,
Brow that the pale night hath kissed
With the lips of a lover, I wist....
Unheralded by deep thunder
From above the broad heavens or from under,
But by magical mystical wonder,
Opal and amethyst:

Spirit of Dawn, from the dwelling
In the uttermost eastern sky,
Where the sons of the morning are telling
Their rapture, as sunward they fly
On the wings of their ecstasy....
With footsteps of flame and of yearning
Darkness and solitude spurning
Come, through the firmament burning:
The world is waiting- and I.