New Hampshire Statesman And Concord Register

POETRY.

MORNING.—BY LUCRETIA MARIA DAVIDSON.

I come in the breath of the waken'd breeze,
I kiss the flowers, and I bend the trees—
And I shake the dew which hath fallen by night,
From its throne on the lily's pure bosom of white.

Awake thee, when bright from my couch in the sky,
I beam o'er the mountains and come from on high;
When my gay purple banners are waving afar—
When my herald, gray dawn, hath extinguished each star—
When I smile on the woodlands, and bend o'er the lake,
Then awake thee, O! maiden, I bid thee awake.

'Thou may'st slumber when all the wide arches of heaven
Glitter bright with the beautiful fires of even;
When the moon walks in glory, and looks from on high,
O'er the clouds floating far through the clear azure sky,
Drifting onward—the beautiful vessels of heaven,
To their far away harbor, all silently driven,
Bearing on in their bosoms the children of light,
Who have fled from this dark world of sorrow and night;
When the lake lies in calmness and darkness, save where
The bright ripple curls, 'neath the smile of a star:
When all is in silence and solitude here,
Then sleep, maiden sleep, without sorrow or fear!

But when I steal silently over the lake,
Awake thee, then, maiden, awake! Oh awake!