SUMMER SKIES
There comes the morning with the golden basket in her right handBearing the wreath of beauty silently to crown the earth.And there comes the evening over the lonely meadowsDeserted by herds, through trackless pathsCarrying cool draughts of peace in her golden pitcherFrom the Western ocean of rest.
There comes the morning with the golden basket in her right handBearing the wreath of beauty silently to crown the earth.And there comes the evening over the lonely meadowsDeserted by herds, through trackless pathsCarrying cool draughts of peace in her golden pitcherFrom the Western ocean of rest.
There comes the morning with the golden basket in her right handBearing the wreath of beauty silently to crown the earth.And there comes the evening over the lonely meadowsDeserted by herds, through trackless pathsCarrying cool draughts of peace in her golden pitcherFrom the Western ocean of rest.
There comes the morning with the golden basket in her right hand
Bearing the wreath of beauty silently to crown the earth.
And there comes the evening over the lonely meadows
Deserted by herds, through trackless paths
Carrying cool draughts of peace in her golden pitcher
From the Western ocean of rest.
Rabindranath Tagore.
Day!Faster and more fast,O'er night's brim day boils at last;Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brimWhere spurting and suppressed it lay;For not a froth-flake touched the rimOf yonder gap in the solid grayOf the eastern cloud, an hour away;But forth one wavelet, then another, curled,Till the whole sunrise, not to be suppressed,Rose, reddened, and its seething breastFlickered in bounds, grew gold, thenOverflowed the world.
Day!Faster and more fast,O'er night's brim day boils at last;Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brimWhere spurting and suppressed it lay;For not a froth-flake touched the rimOf yonder gap in the solid grayOf the eastern cloud, an hour away;But forth one wavelet, then another, curled,Till the whole sunrise, not to be suppressed,Rose, reddened, and its seething breastFlickered in bounds, grew gold, thenOverflowed the world.
Day!Faster and more fast,O'er night's brim day boils at last;Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brimWhere spurting and suppressed it lay;For not a froth-flake touched the rimOf yonder gap in the solid grayOf the eastern cloud, an hour away;But forth one wavelet, then another, curled,Till the whole sunrise, not to be suppressed,Rose, reddened, and its seething breastFlickered in bounds, grew gold, thenOverflowed the world.
Day!
Faster and more fast,
O'er night's brim day boils at last;
Boils, pure gold, o'er the cloud-cup's brim
Where spurting and suppressed it lay;
For not a froth-flake touched the rim
Of yonder gap in the solid gray
Of the eastern cloud, an hour away;
But forth one wavelet, then another, curled,
Till the whole sunrise, not to be suppressed,
Rose, reddened, and its seething breast
Flickered in bounds, grew gold, then
Overflowed the world.
Robert Browning.