The Miracle Of The Dawn

What it would mean for you and me     If dawn should come no more!     Think of its gold along the sea,     Its rose above the shore!     That rose of awful mystery,     Our souls bow down before.     What wonder that the Inca kneeled,     The Aztec prayed and pled     And sacrificed to it, and sealed,     With rights that long are dead,     The marvels that it once revealed     To them it comforted.     What wonder, yea! what awe, behold!     What rapture and what tears     Were ours, if wild its rivered gold,     That now each day appears,     Burst on the world, in darkness rolled,     Once every thousand years!     Think what it means to me and you     To see it even as God     Evolved it when the world was new!     When Light rose, earthquake-shod,     And slow its gradual splendor grew     O'er deeps the whirlwind trod.     What shoutings then and cymballings     Arose from depth and height!     What worship-solemn trumpetings,     And thunders, burning-white,     Of winds and waves, and anthemings     Of Earth received the Light.     Think what it means to see the dawn!     The dawn, that comes each day!     What if the East should ne'er grow wan,     Should nevermore grow gray!     That line of rose no more be drawn     Above the ocean's spray!