Long was the night, oh! long and very dreary;
No hint of dawn, no star, no sign, no word;
Till in the soundless void, when hope was weary,
I heard the fluted warning of a bird.
Out of the waiting dark his little voice
Trilled in a mellow stave its message clear;
Confident, brief, and sweet he sang, Rejoice!
Be glad! be glad! the dawn is very near.
And yet the dark—and yet the bird's oblation—
Then flamed the east, crying that night was done;
Burst from a thousand throats the acclamation:
Here comes the sun!
O faithful watchers, looking for the morning,
Telling your message over in the night;
Happy the ears that listen for your warning,
The eyes that turn to seek the promised light.
Hope, springing from her bed among the ashes,
Shakes herself free, and binds her streaming hair;
Faith dries the tears of doubt upon her lashes,
And smiling, sets her foot upon the stair.
O gallant hearts! Men, thrilling to your daring,
Prophetic cry that Egypt's night is done,
Hear earth's awakened consciousness declaring,
Here comes the sun!
