Day!
Faster and more fast,
O'er night's brim, day boils at last;
Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brim.
_Pippa Passes: Introduction_. R. BROWNING.
How troublesome is day!
It calls us from our sleep away;
It bids us from our pleasant dreams awake,
And sends us forth to keep or break
Our promises to pay.
How troublesome is day!
_Fly-By-Night_. T.L. PEACOCK.
Blest power of sunshine!--genial day,
What balm, what life is in thy ray!
To feel there is such real bliss,
That had the world no joy but this,
To sit in sunshine calm and sweet,--
It were a world too exquisite
For man to leave it for the gloom,
The deep, cold shadow, of the tomb.
_Lalla Rookh: The Fire Worshippers_. T. MOORE.