The Dawn Is Breaking O'er Us.

The dawn is breaking o'er us,         See, heaven hath caught its hue!     We've day's long light before us,     What sport shall we pursue?     The hunt o'er hill and lea?     The sail o'er summer sea?     Oh let not hour so sweet     Unwinged by pleasure fleet.     The dawn is breaking o'er us,         See, heaven hath caught its hue!     We've days long light before us,         What sport shall we pursue?     But see, while we're deciding,         What morning sport to play,     The dial's hand is gliding,         And morn hath past away!     Ah, who'd have thought that noon         Would o'er us steal so soon,--     That morn's sweet hour of prime         Would last so short a time?     But come, we've day before us,         Still heaven looks bright and blue;     Quick, quick, ere eve comes o'er us,         What sport shall we pursue?     Alas! why thus delaying?         We're now at evening's hour;     Its farewell beam is playing         O'er hill and wave and bower.     That light we thought would last,     Behold, even now 'tis past;     And all our morning dreams     Have vanisht with its beams     But come! 'twere vain to borrow         Sad lessons from this lay,     For man will be to-morrow--         Just what he's been to-day.