How fast it dawneth up the sky,
Softly lighter, softly brighter
Tinging sides of clouds on high,
And the stream that rambles by.
What brings the day that I see break
To sleeping men or men that wake?

How fast it dawneth o'er the grass,
Dimly shaded, dewy-bladed,
Where I see no lad or lass
O'er the dusky pathway pass.
But may ev'ry soul be gay
To sing and whistle through the day.

Show forth old home-ground with thy oak,
Now so dim in stem and limb,
Come forth dear house with thy blue smoke,
And show thy doorway and thy folk;
Though the sun comes not to shine
On any early friends of mine.

Come orchard out from shade to light,
Come apple trees, and hives of bees;
Rise Hambledon in thy blue height;
Come mead, and cows of red and white.
Though night dreams flee as here I roam,
Still let me dream myself at home.