Classic Poem

See ,—Morning, in the East, unbinds her hair,
Loosening its lustre on the dewy ground,
And springs upon her blue aërial way!
Thus we spring lightly onward; but, when Night
Flows in upon the ocean of the sky,—
Or when, in sullen mood, Orion turns
His starry shoulder from the lowering world,
We seem to obey the Spirit of the Time,
Forsaking our own God-given strength, and bend
The slaves o' the season.