A Sparkling Day

Poet Christina Rosetti, apparently not an early riser, mentioned several time that she had never seen a sunrise.  Eventually, her friend and fellow poet Theodore Watts-Dunton convinced her that the effort involved in pre-dawn shaking off of the cobwebs of sleep,  would be well repaid by the beauty of the phenomenon.  Christina agreed that the morning beauty of the lilac, pink, and gold sunbeams pouring through the glittering lacework of dewy leaves far surpassed any sunset she had seen.  But nonetheless, she said, she probably would not be getting up to see another.

When she was little, Rebecca often went on about the splendor of the sunrise, while I seldom saw one.  She was always, and still is, an early bird, and I was always, and still am, a slugabed.  Also, her bedroom faced east, and mine west.  This morning, however, Margaret decided to be an early bird, so I staggered about to take her out, I peeked through Rebecca’s bedroom window, and was amazed.  It did indeed surpass the sunset.

Later, the day, on which rain was foretold, continued sparkling.  It was a wonderful day to not be working!