Dawn with a jubilant shout
Leaps on the shivering sea
And puffs the last pale planet out
And scatters the flame-bright clouds about
Like the leaves of a frost-bitten tree.
Does a gold seed split the rosy husk?
Nay, a sword ... a shield ... a spear!
The kindler of all fires that burn
Deep in the day's cerulean urn
Rides up across the clear
And tramples down the cowering dusk
Like a strong-browed charioteer.
Blow out and far away
The dim, the dull, the dun;
Prosper the crimson, blight the gray,
And blow us clean of yesterday,
Stern morning fair begun,
Till the earth is an opal bathed in dew,
Flashing with emerald, gold, and blue,
Held where the skies wash through and through
High up against the sun.
( Catalina Island, 1913)