The Day hath broke, and busy Earth
Hath set upon the path o’ hours.
Mute Night hath spread her darksome wing
And loosed the brood of dreams,
And Day hath set the downy mites to flight.
Fling forth thy dreaming hours! Awake from dark!
And hark! And hark! The Earth doth ring in song!
’Tis Day! ’Tis Day! ’Tis Day!
The close observer will notice in all of these poems that there is nothing hackneyed. The themes, the thoughts, the images, the phrasing, are almost if not altogether unique. The verse which follows is, I am inclined to believe, absolutely so:
Go to the builder of all dreams