Grey dawn on the sand-hills — 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 call 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 rests the broad 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!SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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