{{block center| Past is the long black night,
With its keen lightnings white,
Thunder and floods: new light
⁠The glimmering low east streaks.
The dense clouds part : between
Their jagged rents are seen
Pale reaches blue and green,
⁠As the mirk curtain breaks.

Above the shadowy world,
Still more and more unfurled,
The gathered mists upcurled
⁠Like phantoms melt and pass.
In clear-obscure revealed,
Brown wood, gray stream, dark field
Fresh, healthy odors yield
⁠Wet furrows, flowers, and grass.

The sudden, splendid gleam
Of one thin, golden beam
Shoots from the feathered rim
⁠Of yon hill crowned with woods.
Down its embowered side,
As living waters slide,
So the great morning tide
⁠Follows in sunny floods.

From bush and hedge and tree
Joy, unrestrained -and free,
Breaks .forth in melody,
⁠Twitter and chirp and song:
}}