Morning Among The Hills

By J. G. Percival

A night had passed away among the hills,
An now the first faint tokens of the dawn
Showed in the east. The bright and dewy star
Whose mission is to usher in the morn,
Looked through the cool air, like a blessed thing
In a far purer world; below, there lay,
Wrapped round a woody mountain tranquilly,
A misty cloud.

Its edges caught the light
That now came up from out the unseen depth
Of the full fount of day, and they were laced
With colors ever brightening. I had waked
From a long sleep of many changing dreams,
And now in the fresh forest air I stood,
Nerved to another day of wandering.

Below, there lay a far-extended sea,
Rolling in feathery waves. The wind blew o’er it
And tossed it round the high-ascending rocks,
And swept it through the half-hidden forest-tops,
Till, like an ocean waking into storm,
It heaved and weltered. Gloriously the light
Crested its billows, and those craggy islands
Shone on it like to palaces of spar,
Built on a sea of pearl.

The sky bent round
The awful dome of a most mighty temple,
Built by Omnipotent hands, for nothing less
Than infinite worship. There I stood in silence;
I had no words to tell the mingled thoughts
Of wonder and of joy which then came o’er me,
Even with a whirlwind’s rush.

So beautiful,
So bright, so glorious! Such a majesty
In yon pure vault! So many dazzling tints
In yonder waste of waves — so like the ocean
With its unnumbered islands there encircled
By foaming- surges.

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