At Daybreak, On The Bleak Sea-beach, A

The Sun Is Set; And In His Latest Beams Yon Little Cloud Of Ashen Gray And Gold, Slowly Upon The Amber Air Unrolled, The Falling Mantle Of The Prophet Seems.

For Age Is Opportunity No Less Than Youth Itself, Though In Another Dress, And As The Evening Twilight Fades Away The Sky Is Filled With Stars, Invisible By Day.

Chill Air And Wintry Winds! My Ear Has Grown Familiar With Your Song; I Hear It In The Opening Year, I Listen, And It Cheers Me Long.

For Bells Are The Voice Of The Church; They Have Tones That Touch And Search The Hearts Of Young And Old.

Thought Takes Man Out Of Servitude, Into Freedom.