As on my bed at dawn I mused and prayed,
I saw my lattice prankt upon the wall,
The flaunting leaves and flitting birds withal--
A sunny phantom interlaced with shade;
'Thanks be to Heaven,' in happy mood I said,
'What sweeter aid my matins could befall
Than this fair glory from the east hath made?
What holy sleights hath God, the Lord of all,
To bid us feel and see! We are not free
To say we see not, for the glory comes
Nightly and daily, like the flowing sea;
His lustre pierces through the midnight glooms,
And at prime hours, behold! he follows me
With golden shadows to my secret rooms.'
Charles Tennyson Turner
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sunrise-67/
