William Bell Scott

(1811-1890 / Scotland)

Morning - Poem by William Bell Scott

Fair morn, whose promise never dies,
Distributor of gifts, fair morn!
She seems to blow a magic horn,
From the conscious tops of hills,
That makes the world lift glad fresh eyes,
All the trees quiver, and the rills
Leap forward with a child's surprise:
The spell of dreams
Fades before that magic voice,
Nature calling to rejoice,
Everything in earth or air,
Answers everywhere,
Making rainbows span the skies,
Scattering flowers on hastening streams,
Fulfilling prophecies.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, April 22, 2010

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