Which scatters blessings from its wings

On nations yet unborn.

Barbauld.

Through the vales the breezes sigh;

Twilight opes her bashful eye,

Peeping from the east, she brings

Dew-drops on her dusky wings:

And the lark, with wak’ning lay,

Upsprings, the harbinger of day.

Now behold! the blushing sky