Сара Орн Джеветт (Sarah Orne Jewett)

At Waking

I heard the city bells at morning ring,
    The eastern sky was faintly tinged with light;
The tired town in heavy sleep lay still,
    And yet I knew it was no longer night.

One, two, three, four, the bells struck one by one,
    In answering steeples that were far away:
Who could help wondering what the morn might bring,
    Who waked, like me, between the dark and day?