For works with similar titles, see The New Day.
HEN the great Sun sets the glad East aflame,
The lingering stars are swiftly put to flight:
For Day, triumphant, overthrows the night,
And mocks the lights that twinkled till he came.
The waning moon retires in sudden shame,
And all the air, from roseate height to height,
Quivers with wings of birds that take the light
With jubilant music of one tender name.
So thou hast risen, thou who art my day,
And every lesser light has ceased to shine:
Pale stars, confronted by this dawn of thine,
Like night, and gloom, and grief have passed away.
And yet my bliss I fear to call it mine
Lest fresh foes lurk with unforeseen dismay.
THE NEW DAY.
HEN the great Sun sets the glad East aflame, The lingering stars are swiftly put to flight:
For Day, triumphant, overthrows the night,
And mocks the lights that twinkled till he came.
The waning moon retires in sudden shame,
And all the air, from roseate height to height,
Quivers with wings of birds that take the light
With jubilant music of one tender name.
So thou hast risen, thou who art my day,
And every lesser light has ceased to shine:
Pale stars, confronted by this dawn of thine,
Like night, and gloom, and grief have passed away.
And yet my bliss I fear to call it mine
Lest fresh foes lurk with unforeseen dismay.