At daybreak Morn shall come to me In raiment of the white winds spun. - Madison Cawein

There are haunters of the silence, ghosts that hold the heart and brain.

Some reckon time by stars,
And some by hours:
Some measure days by dreams,
And some by flowers:
My heart alone records
My days and hours.

When the hornet hangs in the hollyhock,
And the brown bee drones i' the rose,
And the west is a red-streaked four-o'-clock
And summer is near its close—
It's—Oh for the gate and the lotus lane
And dusk and dew and home again!