Classic Poem

The Dawn of Morn

Morning breaks! my soul, awake!
Light gleams on the rippling lake;
Rocky heights are tipt with gold,
Day's eye peeps o'er heath and wold;
Shadows deep dissolve in grey,
Stern old darkness dies away;
Mind is fill'd with thought new-born,
Gender'd by the dawn of morn.

Flowers ope their dew-charged eyes,
Larks ascend and wake the skies;
Hens are cackling, cocks are crowing,
Sheep are bleating, cattle lowing,
Collies barking, horses neighing,
Pigeons crooing, donkeys braying,
Birds in holly, brake, and thorn,
Hail with song the dawn of morn.

Labour's daily feats begin,
Loud and louder swells the din;
Blacksmiths' hammers clashing ring,
High their flails the threshers swing;
Crash on crash the woodman's stroke
Falls on reeling pine and oak,
While low voices 'mong the corn
Whisper love at dawn of morn.

Ploughmen urge their sturdy steeds
Through the deep green velvet meads,
Follow'd close by fat old crows,
Chuckling o'er their feast jocose;
Housewives poke their smouldering fires,
Milkmaids clatter in their byres,
While afar the hunter's horn
Shrilly hails the dawn of morn.

Nimble feet begin to patter,
Lisping tongues begin to chatter,
Screaming, pouting, plouting, plashing,
Tell of tiny elfins washing;
Clattering spoons, and seething pot,
Speak of breakfast steaming hot,
Grateful to the labour-worn,
Bringing strength with dawn of morn.

Now a lull steals o'er the scene,
All is silent, all serene,
Each aside his bonnet lays,
While the “saint and father” prays;
Hearts are humbled, knees are bent,
Heaven is thank'd for mercies sent:
Such the scenes thy homes adorn,
Scotland dear, at dawn of morn.English