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