“The lady of the light, the rosy-fingered Morn,
Rose from the hills.”

“Rosy-fingered Dawn.”

“This light is for the world.
Send out from this wooden frame
a beacon made of holy flame
like a bridge across the morning sky
from candle to the hills of high
this light is for the world.”

“I would hold the rosy, slender fingers of the dawn for you.”

“Then rose the strife of kings about the hill of night; but it was soft as two summer gales, shaking their light wings on a lake.”

“But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,
And hides the green hill in an April shroud;
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose.”

“Above the plain rose the hill, above the hill rose the barrow, and above the barrow rose the figure. Above the figure was nothing that could be mapped elsewhere than on a celestial globe.”

“Lady, it rose below vulgarity.”

“Like pearl
Dropt from the opening eyelids of the morn
Upon the bashful rose.”

“She was a form of life and light
That seen, became a part of sight,
And rose, where'er I turn'd mine eye,
The morning-star of memory!
Yes, love indeed is light from heaven;
A spark of that immortal fire
With angels shared, by Alla given,
To lift from earth our low desire.”