Classic Poem

'Tis not yet dawn; from troubled sleep
And strange bewildering dreams I rise;
Here at the casement will I keep
Still vigils with the sea and skies:
I know not why, a tender sadness
Broods o'er my spirit at this hour;
Perchance the dawn may bring me gladness,
And give my soul fresh hope and power.

Yon ocean, stretching far away,
Blends in the darkness with the sky,
Hither its low, dull murmurs stray,
Now hoarsely swell, now sink and die:
That restless sea is heaving ever,
Kissed by the breeze or tempest tost,
Type of the soul that resteth never,
By pleasure stirred, by sorrow crossed.

But see — o'er yonder deep afar,
Wreathed in soft mist, yet purely bright,
Ascends the glorious morning star,
And sheds serene her placid light:
Sweet pledge of day! — thy radiance glowing
O'er the dim ocean's heaving breast,
Like some kind influence thro' me flowing.
Brings to my spirit peace and rest.

Oh, ever when 'mid trouble's night,
With drooping hope and saddened heart,
I wait and watch for cheering light,
And falls the tear unwont to start;
May some fair messenger of heaven,
All bright and beautiful as thou,
Be to my anxious vision given,
And all my griefs be healed as now.