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Till at last the day begins In the east a-breaking, In the hedges and the whins Sleeping birds a-waking.

In the darkness shapes of things, Houses, trees, and hedges, Clearer grow; and sparrow's wings Beat on window ledges.

These shall wake the yawning maid; She the door shall open— Finding dew on garden glade And the morning broken.

There my garden grows again Green and rosy painted, As at eve behind the pane From my eyes it fainted.

Just as it was shut away, Toy-like, in the even, Here I see it glow with day Under glowing heaven.