When morning, rob’d in vest of light,
Breathes freshness o’er the dim-seen height;
When evening’s last unclouded ray,
Gilds the fair scenes of parting day;
When night’s pale green, in silence deep,
Wide wanders o’er yon western steep,
Still, dress’d by thee, at every view,
The youthful Landscape charms anew.
And still on easy wing upborne,
Light as the mountain airs of morn,
The spirits dance, if chas’d by thee,
The stones of dark arrangement flee;
For thou to full expansive day
Can’st quicken reason’s slumbering ray,
Can’st bid the listless thoughts aspire,
And clothe them with immortal fire.
The New-Jersey Eagle printed this ode by a Newark poet on July 5, 1823.