That summons him to matin-prayer.
And is it sorrow that they feel? 115
Nay! call it not by such a name,
The stroke of sadness that doth steal
With rapid motion through their hearts,
When comes the thought that yesterday
With all its joys is passed away, 120
The long expected happy day.
An instant—and all sadness goes;
Nor brighter looks the half-blown rose