THE MORNING HOUR by Susanna Moodie
Like a maid on her bridal morn I rise,
With the smile on her lip and the tear in her eyes;
Whilst the breeze my crimson banner unfurls,
I wreathe my locks with the purest pearls;
Brighter diamonds never were seen
Encircling the neck of an Indian queen!
I traverse the east on my glittering wing,
And my smiles awake every living thing;
And the twilight hour like a pilgrim gray,
Follows the night on her weeping way.
I raise the veil from the saffron bed,
Where the young sun pillows his golden head;
He lifts from the ocean his burning eye,
And his glory lights up the earth and sky.
Ah, I am like that dewy prime,
Ere youth hath shaken hands with time;
Ere the fresh tide of life has wasted low,
And discovered the hidden rocks of woe:
When like the rosy beams of morn,
Joy and gladness and love were born,
Hope divine, of heavenly birth,
And pleasure that lightens the cares of earth!
I enjoyed it all but my favorite lines were the last 4 of the first stanza.
I love the line also…”where the young sun pillows his golden head”. I find it unusual that Susanna refers to the young sun in the masculine…perhaps there is some reference to the loss of her own young boy to a drowning incident…and then again, perhaps I’m reading too much into it! 🙂 Thank you, dear Bard…and I look forward to reading your poetry!
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