IMPRESSION: Le Réveillon

The sky is laced with fitful red,
  The circling mists and shadows flee,
  The dawn is rising from the sea,
Like a white lady from her bed.

And jagged brazen arrows fall
  Athwart the feathers of the night,
  And a long wave of yellow light
Breaks silently on tower and hall,

And spreading wide across the wold[1]
  Wakes into flight some fluttering bird,
  And all the chestnut tops are stirred,
And all the branches streaked with gold.

  <Publ. 1890>

  1. ↑ Wold — n 1. A wood; a forest. 2. A plain, or low hill; a country without wood, whether hilly or not.
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