Dew-heavy, hangs its head upon its stalk;
When dawning soft and faint upon the blue,
The vague, mysterious, dreamy blue of night,
The first dim planet glimmers into view,
’Tis then it opens with a shy delight
Its pale gold, wayside blossoms near and far,
Holding them up to greet the evening star.
The freshness of the morning tempts it not,
Nor fervid noon, nor the warm wind’s caress;
It envies not the royal rose’s lot,