Poems (Cary)/The Morning

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THE MORNING.
Break, morning, break, I weary of the night, Longing to see and know the truth of things, To gather faith up, as the bird her wings,And soar into the kingdom, where is light.
Arise, oh Sun! for while the midnight lay Along the path we travelled—dense, profound, The hands and feet of my sweet mate were bound,And he is prisoned till the break of day.
Shadows, wild shadows, from the air be gone— Where shaken boughs of golden lilies stood, Came up a black impenetrable wood,When love was lost—I cannot journey on.
By the King's palace low my knees I bow, On the dark porch beside the palace white Waiting the morn which shall husk out the lightFrom the thick shell of darkness round me now.
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