William Duke

1757-1840 / USA

Morning

But now the dawn of day appears,
And now the dappled East declares
Ambrosial morn again arrived,
And nature's slumbering powers revived,
And while they into action spring
The infant breeze with odorous wing,
Perfumes of sweetest scent exhales,
And the enlivened sense regales,
With sweets exempt from all alloy
Which neither irritate nor cloy.
Nor less the calmly gladdened sight
Enjoys the milder forms of light,
Reflected soft in twinkling beams,
From numberless translucent gems.
But now Aurora dries her tears,
And with a gayer mien appears,
With cheerful aspect smiles serene,
And ushers in the splendid scene
Of golden day: while feeble night
Precipitates his dreary flight
Dispelled by the all cheering sway
Of the resplendent God of day,
Who, mounted in his royal car,
And all arrayed in golden glare
With arduous career drives on
Ascending his meridian throne:
From thence a Sovereign of the day,
His full-grown glories to display.
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