Like A Maid On Her Bridal Morn I Rise, With The Smile On Her Lip And The Tear In Her Eyes; Whilst The Breeze My Crimson Banner Unfurls, I Wreathe My Locks With The Purest Pearls; Brighter Diamonds Never Were Seen Encircling The Neck Of An Indian Queen! I Traverse The East On My Glittering Wing, And My Smiles Awake Every Living Thing; And The Twilight Hour Like A Pilgrim Gray, Follows The Night On Her Weeping Way. I Raise The Veil From The Saffron Bed, Where The Young Sun Pillows His Golden Head; He Lifts From The Ocean His Burning Eye, And His Glory Lights Up The Earth And Sky. Ah, I Am Like That Dewy Prime, Ere Youth Hath Shaken Hands With Time; Ere The Fresh Tide Of Life Has Wasted Low, And Discovered The Hidden Rocks Of Woe: When Like The Rosy Beams Of Morn, Joy And Gladness And Love Were Born, Hope Divine, Of Heavenly Birth, And Pleasure That Lightens The Cares Of Earth!