Airy Tongues

I. I hear a song the wet leaves lisp When Morn comes down the woodland way; And misty as a thistle-wisp Her gown gleams windy gray; A song, that seems to say, "Awake! 'tis day!" I hear a sigh, when Day sits down Beside the sunlight-lulled lagoon; While on her glistening hair and gown The rose of rest is strewn; A sigh, that seems to croon, "Come sleep! 'tis noon!" I hear a whisper, when the stars, Upon some evening-purpled height, Crown the dead Day with nenuphars Of dreamy gold and white; A voice, that seems t' invite, "Come love! 'tis night!" II. Before the rathe song-sparrow sings Among the hawtrees in the lane, And to the wind the locust flings Its early clusters fresh with rain; Beyond the morning-star, that swings Its rose of fire above the spire, Between the morning's watchet wings, A voice that rings o'er brooks and boughs "Arouse! arouse!" Before the first brown owlet cries Among the grape-vines on the hill, And in the dam with half-shut eyes The lilies rock above the mill; Beyond the oblong moon, that flies Its pearly flower above the tower, Between the twilight's primrose skies, A voice that sighs from east to west "To rest! to rest!"