The Morning-Glory

So delicate, so bright, Blushing in the dew, Among the tangled weeds it lies, Barely breaking through.

What tender sun shall warm you, Oh, morning-glory fair? Your beautiful spirals shall twine Up the delicate air.

Reach for the dawn’s bright fingers, To arise in the light, The world shall ease in whispers, Gently take to flight.

• James Russell Lowell