O God, the Dawn is coming up the East!
White as a virgin waking from a dream,
Or a chaste lily on a crystal stream;
Sweet as the June air when the rain has ceased,
Sweet as a love that has been hoped for least;
Dear as the thought of kisses that are gone,
Pure as a cloistered nun―dear God, the Dawn―
The holy Dawn―is coming up the East!
Now every vein, run full with sacred fire,
And heart, beat fast and thrill with ecstasy;
And soul, leap up in exquisite desire,
And throb with passion, every pulse of me! . . .
Peace to each man, O Christ, and each dumb beast,
The holy Dawn is coming up the East!
“The Holy Dawn” as it appears in Higginson’s When the Birds Go North Again (1898).