> And lo ! the joy that cometh with the morning,
Brightly victorious o'er the hours of care !
I have not watched in vain, serenely scorning
The wild and busy whispers of despair !
Thou hast sent tidings as of heaven. -- I wait
The hour, the sign, for blessed flight to thee.
Oh ! for the skylark's wing that seeks its mate
As a star shoots ! -- but on a breezy sea
We shall meet soon. -- To think of such an hour !