The morning is a little hopeful glance
Noontide that comes up fast—which gives the chance
To weary travelers to lay their heads.
In a bright field, that day waits not
For men unkind of face:

For a tender glow does round the garden move.
Straying bright flowers light up;
They breathe stars on every road;
And while streams wash, the kindest catches those,

Who travel into such sphere
As drapes them like a silent prayer—
Chiming till in sheer mirth they soar with open wrath,
And all the thorns melt light.

From dawn into dusk, paths wind and glow,
While sunshine flees on air—to reach
A gift of sudden response—to glance beyond the bars;
There blooms like distance, potent touch!

It is only sweet though, this phantom hour
That shimmers benign
Without undue door
Where a breathlines toll.

• Gerard Manley Hopkins