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C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Dawn

By Nathaniel Parker Willis (1806–1867)

  • “That line I learned not in the old sad song.”
  • —CHARLES LAMB.

  • THROW up the window! ’Tis a morn for life

    In its most subtle luxury. The air

    Is like a breathing from a rarer world;

    And the south wind is like a gentle friend,

    Parting the hair so softly on my brow.

    It has come over gardens, and the flowers

    That kissed it are betrayed; for as it parts,

    With its invisible fingers, my loose hair,

    I know it has been trifling with the rose,

    And stooping to the violet. There is joy

    For all God’s creatures in it. The wet leaves

    Are stirring at its touch, and birds are singing

    As if to breathe were music, and the grass

    Sends up its modest odor with the dew,

    Like the small tribute of humility.

    I had awoke from an unpleasant dream,

    And light was welcome to me. I looked out

    To feel the common air; and when the breath

    Of the delicious morning met my brow,

    Cooling its fever, and the pleasant sun

    Shone on familiar objects, it was like

    The feeling of the captive, who comes forth

    From darkness to the cheerful light of day.

    Oh! could we wake from sorrow; were it all

    A troubled dream like this, to cast aside

    Like an untimely garment with the morn;

    Could the long fever of the heart be cooled

    By a sweet breath from nature; or the gloom

    Of a bereaved affection pass away

    With looking on the lively tint of flowers,—

    How lightly were the spirit reconciled

    To make this beautiful, bright world its home!