Rises.

van Gogh, Poet's Garden, 1888

Hear the voice of the Bard!

Who Present, Past, & Future sees 

Whose ears have heard, 

The Holy Word, 

That walk'd among the ancient trees. 

Calling the lapsed Soul 

And weeping in the evening dew: 

That might controll, 

The starry pole; 

And fallen fallen light renew!

O Earth O Earth return!

Arise from out the dewy grass;

Night is worn,

And the morn

Rises from the slumberous mass.

Turn away no more: 

Why wilt thou turn away 

The starry floor 

The wat'ry shore 

Is giv'n thee till the break of day. 

William Blake