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The Spike or Victoria University College Review September 1925

Spring Morning

Spring Morning

Come out into the dawn....
Now on the close-cropt lawn,
Sweet-smelling, green and wet,
Let us, having no fret,
Receive the sacrament
Of silence, humbly bent
To feel the touch benign
Of the young day divine.
Now has the breathing earth
Come to its latest birth—
Sprung from its nightly tomb,
Its grave, which is its womb.
Delicate, fresh, again
The morning without stain
Appears in maiden hue.
Look! where the darkling dew
Has tipped each trembling blade
And, like a lover, stayed,
Soft-fallen from the skies'
Maternal-weeping eyes—
The skies which, spreading pale
Wait for the eager hail
Of the young lusty sun
Whose course is now to run.
He comes, that archer bold,
Let's fly his arrows gold—
And see the colour leap
Into the brimming deep!
Now stirs the liquid air,
And trees and garden dare
Stir, and the stillness break—
Now is the world awake!
O lift the hands and pray
Virgin-like, to the day:
Adoring beauty so
Bend, sip the dew, and go.

—J.C.B