Silver Hours

Come, lovely Morning, rich in frost

On iron, wood and glass;

Show all your pains to silver-gild

Each little blade or grass.

Come, rich and lovely Winter’s Eve,

That seldom handles gold;

And spread your silver sunsets out,

In glittering fold on fold.

Come, after sunset; come, Oh come-

You clear and frosty Night:

Dig up your fields of diamonds, till

The heavens all dance in light!