Charles Tennyson Turner (1808–1879)

AS on my bed at dawn I mused and pray’d,

I saw my lattice pranckt upon the wall,

The flitting birds and flaunting leaves withal—

A sunny phantom interlaced with shade.

‘Thanks be to heaven!’ in happy mood I said;

‘What sweeter aid my matins could befall

Than this fair glory from the East hath made?

What holy sleights hath God, the Lord of all,

To bid us feel and see! We are not free

To say we see not, for the glory comes

Nightly and daily like a flowing sea;

His lustre pierceth thro’ the midnight glooms,

And, at prime hour, behold!—He follows me

With golden shadows to my secret rooms!