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THE MORNING CHAMBER.
I.

THIS flower-like chamber, delicately walled,
Of softest tints, low ceilèd, wide and fair,
Where pensive meditations seem installed
Like cloistered nuns long-motionless in prayer;
This lovely chamber, looking south and east
Across green seas of rippling foliage dense,
Whose waiting windows catch the first and least
Soft glimmer from that heavenly chamber whence
The sun rejoicing cometh; this sweet room,
While folded yet in slumbers incomplete
The whole fair house beside lies wrapt in gloom;
This morning chamber, high above the street,
Day's silent glory floods and overflows
With golden calm that crowns the night's repose.

II.

High noon! and fuller floods of sunshine pour
Into this shining chamber till it seems—
The very hidden rafters, secret beams—
To swim in splendor! I but cross the floor

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