Dawns of the world, how I have known you all, br so many, and so varied, and the same! br dawns o'er the timid plains, or in the folds br of the arm'd hills, or by the unsleeping shore; br a chill touch on the chill flesh of the dark br that, shuddering, shrinks from its couch, and leaves br a homeless light, staring, disconsolate, br on the drear world it knows too well, the world br it fled and finds again, its wistful hope br unmet by any miracle of night, br that mocks it rather, with its shreds that hang br about the woods and huddled bulks of gloom br that crouch, malicious, in the broken combes, br witness to foulnesses else unreveal'd br that visit earth and violate her dreams br in the lone hours when only evil wakes.