Where cedar caverns, branching, breathe
Their darkness o'er the dewy lawn,
While slowly bloomed in heaven a wreath
Of eastern lilies. Soon the sun
Ascended o'er the far sea-tide
Smiting to glory billows dun
And clouds and trees; and loud I cried,
“Thou too shalt rise, my sun—thou too—
O'er darkling hearts in power shalt rise,
And flame on souls, and flash on dew