Passage from Orion by Richard Henry Horne
Passage from Orion
Richard Henry Horne
From Horne’s Orion, Canto II, Book III, pg. 115
O’er meadows green or solitary lawn,
When birds appear earth’s sole inhabitants,
The long clear shadows of the morning differ
From those of eve, which are more soft and vague,
Suggestive of past days and mellowed grief.
The lights of morning, even as her shades,
Are architectural, and pre-eminent
In quiet freshness, midst the pause that holds
Prelusive energies. All life awakes.
Morn comes at first with white uncertain light;
Then takes a faint red, like an opening bud
Seen through grey mist: the mist clears off; the sky
Unfolds; grows ruddy; takes a crimson flush;
Puts forth bright sprigs of gold,—which soon expanding
In saffron, thence pure golden shines the morn;
Uplifts its clear bright fabric of white clouds,
All tinted, like a shell of polished pearl,
With varied glancings, violet gleam and blush;
Embraces Nature; and then passes on,
Leaving the Sun to perfect his great work.