Now comes the lighting of the stellar lamp

Which softly tints grey skies in rose and blue,

Slowly rising over purple mountain ramps

To wake the world and warm all hearts anew.

So blush the tender crowns of yawning trees,

Whose darkling peignoirs shift to garden green

As minstrels trill upon the waking breeze,

A honeyed chorus lifted bright in mien.

Alchemy turns the leaden ponds to gold

And gilds the eagle gyring up on high;

Black rivers gleam as silver streams that hold

Fish that rise with golden-glinted eyes.

A mountain morning blest by Heaven’s light;

Enchantment borne of dawn’s first pure delight.