December Morning

I love to rise ere gleams the tardy light,Winter's pale dawn;--and as warm fires illume,And cheerful tapers shine around the room,Through misty windows bend my musing sight

Where, round the dusky lawn, the mansions whiteWith shutters closed, peer faintly through the bloomThat slow recedes; while yon grey spires assume,Rising from their dark pile, an added height,

By indistinctness given.--Then to decreeThe grateful thoughts to God, ere they unfoldTo Friendship, or the Muse, or seek with glee

Wisdom's rich page!--O, hours! more worth than gold,By whose blest use we lengthen life, and freeFrom drear decays of age, outlive the old.