Morn's old and immemorial flush!
Afar, the distant Tusket's rush
Is heard, in muffled murmur deep,
As, past green isle and headland steep,
Its eddying waters seaward sweep.
Morn's steps advance, and lo, the West
Hath donned a new and gorgeous vest
Of purple and of amethyst.
Look East once more!—a sea of gold
Along the far horizon rolled—