Page:Hymns of the Marshes.djvu/45

 For list, down the inshore curve of the creek

How merrily flutters the sail,—

And lo, in the East! Will the East unveil?

The East is unveiled, the East hath confessed

A flush; 'tis dead; 'tis alive; 'tis dead, ere the West

Was aware of it; nay, 'tis abiding, 'tis unwithdrawn:

Have a care, sweet Heaven! 'Tis Dawn.

Now a dream of a flame through that dream of a flush is uprolled;

To the zenith ascending, a dome of undazzling gold

Is builded, in shape as a bee-hive, from out of the sea;

The hive is of gold undazzling, but oh, the Bee,

The star-fed Bee, the build-fire Bee,

Of dazzling gold is the great Sun-Bee

That shall flash from the hive-hole over the sea.

Yet now the dew-drop, now the morning gray,

Shall live their little lucid sober day