21. Morning, when the sun pours his first light
Amid a forest, and with ray aslant,
Entering its depth, illumes the branchless pines,
Brightening their bark, tinging with redder hue
Its rusty stains, and casting on the earth
Long lines of shadow, where they rise erect
Like pillars of a temple.
Southey—Madoc.
22. Sunrise, slanting on a city, when
The early risen poor are coming in,