Sonett-Forum

MORNING BY ONTARIO

THROUGH night's barred gates a venturous light doth break;
The shadows vanish, and where far peaks rise
A splendor burns along the opulent skies ;
The birds are stirring, and the winds awake.

Now burst the meadows into many a flake
Of shifting fire, and still the old surprise
Of morning kindles where a glory lies
Upon the wrinkled bosom of the lake.

As yon proud vessel parts with shining prow
A backward-curling waste of molten gold,
Down treading the smooth waves, so outward now

A spirit-craft fares 'mid the strange lights rolled
From other suns, while on my Love's dead brow
The new day prints its kisses sweet and cold.