Then shrill cocks here, and shrill cocks there,
Stretched glossy necks and filled the air.
How many cocks it takes to make
A country morning well awake!
Then many boughs, with many birds,—
Young boughs in green, old boughs in gray,—
These birds had very much to say
In their soft, sweet, familiar words.
And all seemed sudden glad; the gloom
Forgot the church, forgot the tomb;
And yet like monks with cross and bead
The myrtles leaned to read and read.
And oh the fragrance of the sod!
And oh the perfume of the air!
The sweetness, sweetness everywhere,
That rose like incense up to God!
I like a cow’s breath in sweet spring,
I like the breath of babes new-born;
A maid’s breath is a pleasant thing,—
But oh the breath of sudden morn!
Of sudden morn, when every pore
Of mother earth is pulsing fast
With life, and life seems spilling o’er
With love, with love too sweet to last:
Of sudden morn beneath the sun,
By God’s great river wrapped in gray,
That for a space forgets to run,
And hides his face as if to pray.
XI.
The black-eyed Creole kept his eyes
Turned to the door, as eyes might turn
To see the holy embers burn
Some sin away at sacrifice.
Full dawn! but yet he knew no dawn,
Nor song of bird, nor bird on wing,
Nor breath of rose, nor anything
Her fair face lifted not upon.