Poems (Browning)/At Early Morn

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The Sea
At Early Morn
Before the Morn a wingéd rest
 Has shaken from her mantled crest,
The dewy diamond robe of sleep,
 Then, in the greying dawn I creep
A silent wanderer to the sea;
 But wide the tide has passed from me,
And passing, left a kingly throne,
 The rocks worn old and dull with foam,
The cold, moist caverns, vague and dim,
 Where, with the sun, the waves within
Their mighty halls will thunder past,
 And reach a promised home at last.

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