From Dawn to Dream

By George Sterling

Soul of the world! my Paradise and dream!
    Now dawn makes all my heart one purest fane
    Wherein the marvel of thy face again
Hath glory past the sun's rerisen beam.
Devout and bowed, to thee, adored, supreme,
    I make the orison of Love's sweet pain—
    A low and incommunicable strain,
Sung by the soul where Love's white altars gleam.

Till evening clasp the world, and shadows dumb
    Rebuild the palace of the night, and thou
        Turn softly as the twilight to thy rest;
Till on the verge of dream my soul shall come
    And lay with sleep my kiss upon thy brow,
        As dew that sinks upon a lily's breast.


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