Sunrise on the Coast

Grey dawn on the sandhills — the night wind has drifted
All night from the rollers a scent of the sea;
With the dawn the grey fog his battalions has lifted,
At the scent of the morning they scatter and flee.

Like mariners calling the roll of their number
The sea fowl put out to the infinite deep.
And far overhead — sinking softly to slumber —
Worn out by their watching, the stars fall asleep.

To eastward where resteth the dome of the skies on
The sea line stirs softly the curtain of night;
And far from behind the enshrouded horizon
Comes the voice of a God saying, 'Let there be light.'

And lo, there is light! Evanescent and tender,
It glows ruby-red where 'twas now ashen grey;
And purple and scarlet and gold in its splendour —
Behold, 'tis that marvel, the birth of a day!