New Mornings . . .

Still quiet climb the burning vermilion rays,

Hailing anew; as wonder of ancient time
Earnest with uprais'd hands, priests chanted praise
Rich with awe, poured out in sacred mime
Red oblations of holy wine to greet
Yon ascending god, Phoebus glorified;
Myself, obeisant, here pay homage meet,
Ere the pallid moon set, and starry skied
Night betake herself to triumphant dreams

Such light discovered in thy brilliant eyes;

Aurora's passion now so sallow seems
To their lavish spirit; contented sighs
That fill me quite; bid my heart wake the day;
In thy thought, dawns delight, and here I pray.