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Autumn Dawn

Again, again, gold steals upon the greyness
Of hazy dawn; reveals wide sunburned plain,
Pure mountains speaking peace, the sea’s
Bright shining, sky-reflecting mirror;
Now soft assuaging mists, their assignation
With thirsty sod fulfilled, mildly disperse;
And resting earth, her increase having yielded,
Bathes her swart limbs, placid, in the morning sun.

Give up, give up, my soul, to this still hour,
To these gilt beams, all thine attention;
To the sun’s work give assent, and acquiescence
Unto succession render; percipience lend
To precious balms upbreathed by faint air-stirrings;
Audience to all but immaterial riro-riro,
Who with small blissful flute musics thy meditations
Till they are full-attuned to his serenity.

Record, record, memory, these calm awakenings
To autumn amplitude—here are so few left, now,
Before (what spiritual sheaves there may be, garnered,)
That other morning breaks on other shore.