Classic Poem

Bright sparkling Glory of the blue-fac'd Morn,
That gems the rosy Ether's timid Blush;
See, see the Witch of Night retires forlorn,
As thy pale beauties on the Twilight rush.

So on our Dawn of Life, the Star appears,
With seraph Innocence and splendid Ray;
Till dimm'd by Sorrow's Clouds, it fades in Tears,
Gleams a pale Light and vanishes from Day.

Ah—lustrous Emblem of the short liv'd Hour,
Pour on my wounded Soul the transient Glow,
Moist with the Weepings of exulting Woe,
Nor heed the dashing Tempest's scornful Pow'r:

For Hope still loiters in my feeble Breast,
And bids me look for Heaven's superior Rest!