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Misty Morning
THE FIRST HOUR OF MORNING. by Ann Radcliffe
(for the Life of Ann Radcliffe, click here)
How sweet to wind the forest's tangled shade, When early twilight, from the eastern bound, Dawns on the sleeping landscape in the glade, And fades as morning spreads her blush around! When ev'ry infant flower, that wept in night, Lifts its chill head soft glowing with a tear, Expands its tender blossom to the light, And gives its incense to the genial air. How fresh the breeze that wafts the rich perfume; And swells the melody of waking birds; The hum of bees, beneath the verdant gloom, And woodman's song, and low of distant herds!
Then, doubtful gleams the mountain's hoary head, Seen through the parting foliage from afar; And, farther still, the ocean's misty bed, With flitting sails, that partial sun-beams share. But, vain the sylvan shade---the breath of May, The voice of music floating on the gale, And forms that beam through morning's dewy veil, If health no longer bid the heart be gay! O balmy hour! 'tis thine her wealth to give, Here spread her blush, and bid the parent live!"
Morn's beaming eyes at length unclose, And wake the blushes of the rose, That all night long oppress'd with dews, And veil'd in chilly shade its hues, Reclin'd, forlorn, the languid head, And sadly sought its parent bed; Warmth from her ray the trembling flow'r derives, And, sweetly blushing, through its tears revives.
And from Ann Radcliffes' The Romance of the Forest, 3 vols. (London, 1791), 3:32-33: "She awoke with the dawn, and her [PAGE 33] mind being too much disturbed to sleep again, she rose and watched the gradual approach of day. As she mused, she expressed the feelings of the moment in the following,
"Morn's beaming eyes at length unclose," And melt the tears that bend the rose; But can their charms suppress the sigh, Or chace the tear from Sorrow's eye? Can all their lustrous light impart One ray of peace to sorrow's heart? Ah! no; their fires her fainting soul oppress--- Eve's pensive shades more soothe her meek distress!"
As I Walk Through The Misty Woods
As I walk through the misty woods
I forget the passage of thousands of
Years of spiritual decadenceI pause and listen
The swaying leaves gently whisper
The sweet secrets of untouched NatureAnd my soul is lost in an ecstasy
Of exquisite beauty
And restful peace
