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C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

The Lattice at Sunrise

By Charles Tennyson Turner (1808–1879)

AS on my bed at dawn I mused and prayed,

I saw my lattice pranked upon the wall,

The flaunting leaves and flitting birds withal,—

A sunny phantom interlaced with shade:

“Thanks be to Heaven,” in happy mood I said,

“What sweeter aid my matins could befall

Than the fair glory from the East hath made?

What holy sleights hath God, the Lord of all,

To bid us feel and see! We are not free

To say we see not, for the glory comes

Nightly and daily, like the flowing sea;

His lustre pierceth through the midnight glooms,

And, at prime hour, behold! he follows me

With golden shadows to my secret rooms.”