She does not confine herself to the Seasons in her tributes to the divisions of time. There are many poems which have the day for their subject, all expressive of delight in every aspect of the changing hours. There is a pæan to the day in this:
The Morn awoke from off her couch of fleece,
And cast her youth-dampt breath to sweet the Earth.
The birds sent carol up to climb the vasts.
The sleep-stopped Earth awaked in murmuring.
The dark-winged Night flew past the Day
Who trod his gleaming upward way.
The fields folk musicked at the sun’s warm ray.
Web-strewn, the sod, hung o’er o’ rainbow gleam.
The brook, untiring, ever singeth on.