At Dawn Poem by Edward Rowland Sill

I LAY awake and listened, ere the light
Began to whiten at the window pane.
The world was all asleep: earth was a fane
Emptied of worshippers; its dome of night,
Its silent aisles, were awful in their gloom.
Suddenly from the tower the bell struck four,
Solemn and slow, how slow and solemn! o'er
Those death-like slumberers, each within his room.
The last reverberation pulsed so long
It seemed no tone of earthly mould at all.
But the bell woke a thrush; and with a call
He roused his mate, then poured a tide of song:
'Morning is coming, fresh, and clear, and blue,'
Said that bright song; and then I thought of you.
An Adage From The Orient
AT the punch-bowl's brink,
Let the thirsty think
What they say in Japan:

'First the man takes a drink,
Then the drink takes a drink,
Then the drink takes the man!'