A Spirit’s Voice by Frances Anne Kemble

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It is the dawn! the rosy day awakes,
From her bright hair pale showers of dew she shakes,
And through the heavens her early pathway takes,
Why art thou sleeping!
It is the noon! the sun looks laughing down
On hamlet still, on busy shore, and town,
On forest glade, and deep dark waters lone,
Why art thou sleeping!
It is the sunset! daylight’s crimson veil
Floats o’er the mountain tops, while twilight pale
Calls up her vaporous shrouds from every vale,
Why art thou sleeping!
It is the night! o’er the moon’s livid brow,
Like shadowy locks, the clouds their darkness throw,
All evil spirits wake to wander now,
Why art thou sleeping!

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