Dawn

The soft-toned clock upon the stair chimed three— Too sweet for sleep, too early yet to rise. In restful peace I lay with half-closed eyes, Watching the tender hours go dreamily; The tide was flowing in; I heard the sea Shivering along the sands; while yet the skies Were dim, uncertain, as the light that lies Beneath the fretwork of some wild-rose tree Within the thicket gray. The chanticleer Sent drowsy calls across the slumbrous air; In solemn silence sweet it was to hear My own heart beat . . . Then broad and deep and fair— Trembling in its new birth from heaven’s womb— One crimson shaft of dawn sank thro’ my room.