Classic Poem

Early in the morning,
Early in the dew,
Singing from the mountains
Where the dreams withdrew,
Lingered one I knew.

" Soul, art thou so shining?
What is there to tell?
Whither hast thou journeyed?"
And the answer fell,
" Early to the well.

" Early, early, early,
To the farthest light;
Drinking, singing, bathing
In the cool, the might,
Whence I have my sight.

" There I found my sandals
Gladdened with a wing;
And my fair apparel
Woven out of Spring.
Therefore do I sing."

And the golden voices
Warming with the sun,
Dimmed the silver voices,
Fading, one by one.
And the dream was done.