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Days and Hours by Frederick Tennyson. This book is a reproduction of the original book published in 1854 and may have some imperfections such as marks or hand-written notes.

THE coining Day flushed all the orient, And more and more the purple dawnlight soard To radiant glory, as, Apollo trod, With breeze-blown locks, the long Olynlpian slopes, His harp upon his shoulders, as he came, Dashing away from him the diamond dews With his swift feet, that seemd afire with haste And joy. But the darkness on his brows Speaks but of pain and, were he not a God, Those twin pearls in his eyes were unshed tears, and those pale lips, that never yet had paled, Seem touchd as with a winter of despair. And yet the odorous breezes rang the chords Of his gold harp, as tho to waken...