Four Extracts From Poem by Martin Farquhar Tupper

How fresh and fair is morn!
The dew-beads, dropping bright,
Each humble flower adorn
With coronets bedight,
And jewel the rough thorn
With tiny globes of light,-
How beautiful is morn!
Her scattered gems how bright!
There is a quiet gladness
In the waking earth,
Like the face of sadness
Lit with chastened mirth;
There is a mine of treasure
In those hours of health,
Filling up the measure
Of creation's wealth.
The eye of day hath opened gray,
And the gallant Sun
Hath trick'd his beams by Rydal's streams,
And waveless Coniston;
From Langdale Pikes his glory strikes,
From heath and giant hill,
From many a tairn, and stone-built cairn,
And many a mountain rill:
Helvellyn bares his forehead black,
And Eagle-crag and Saddleback,
And Skiddaw hails the dawning day,
And rolls his robe of cloud away.