It touched the wood-bird's folded wing,
And said, "O Bird, awake and sing."
And o'er the farms, "O Chanticleer,
Your clarion blow, the day is near."
It whispered to the fields of corn,
"Bow down and hail the coming morn."
It shouted through the belfry tower,
"Awake, O bell! proclaim the hour."
It crossed the churchyard with a sigh,
And said, "not yet! in quiet lie."
Words fail to describe the exhilarating effect of the morning air, the marvelous beauty of the vast expanse of sea and sky seen through the luminous trembling haze, or the vines, flowers and shrubs that grow with wonderful luxuriance, which in many places presented an almost tropical aspect. If we add to this the most startling contrasts and picturesque details with a delightful breeze blowing over all you have still but a faint idea of the picture.
How bright the morning was! "The leaves were newly washed, every flower refreshed, their colors. flashing with brighter tints like new dyes just put on." How pure the air was made! There was no contamination by smoke or dust and the very breeze came like a tonic, and we breathed deeply and thanked the Creator for each potent draught. There was an exuberance of joy in the dance of the waves as they came rolling in to shore, and the swaying branches of the trees were only wordless rhythmical songs that the birds were singing among their branches.
On some bland morning like this when you view the breezy, sparkling sea, whereon the haze lies like the soft bloom on grapes, everything will appear dreamy and beautiful, while recollections of Nice, Monaco and Monte Carlo with their majestic shore lines rising from a sea of sapphire, are recalled. Those dazzling white buildings rising as they seem to do from the sea, steeped in that effulgent golden haze, seem almost unearthly in their splendor. One wonders if he has not gotten to heaven before his time, for here are terraced garden walls where fall cascades of exquisite blossoms, vast sheets of delicate pink geraniums, purple of clematis, lustrous yellow of mimosas, scarlet anemones and variegated tulips that hang poised before you like glorious curtains of richly wrought mosaic.
The broad fronds of the palms catch the gold of the morning sunbeams. The air is laden with the fragrance of myriads of flowers and has the softness of sea-born breezes. Rose wreathed villas with their pure white or cream tinted walls; shutters of turquoise blue and red tile roofs only add to the glory of the tropical luxuriance and charming views of mountain and sea.
And such a sea! How futile are words to describe. Its blue has been characterized as a "vast expanse of sapphire sparkling with diamonds." It does not owe its marvelous effects to reflections from the sky, for no sky ever had such an intense blue, filled with lambent light. Then its greens, blues, and purples, seen from the lovely mountain roads, especially from the road leading from Monte Carlo, seem more like leaping prismatic flame than a vast expanse of water. Then the old gold, red, and orange colored sails of the boats, gliding like magic through the water, add their picturesque touches to the scene. The sound of boatmen calling to one another with their soft musical voices is like the trilling of the nightingale from some leafy bower. Having felt the charm of those magical scenes you will enjoy the ocean at Newport none the less.