The speaker wakes while night is still lingering over the hills, woods, and lake. The darkness itself seems to be singing a moon-song, and a light breeze touches the birches as if quietly accompanying it. Then dawn arrives gently and offers a handful of bright bird-notes. The feeling is one of calm and gratitude. The world feels hushed, magical, and alive, and the speaker is a quiet receiver of its beauty rather than an active participant. The mood is tender and almost dreamlike, as if the changing light from night to morning is a personal gift. Even the title suggests that this moment—night’s music, dawn’s birdsong—is something freely given, to be noticed and enjoyed.
A Gift — Summary
I WOKE:— Night, lingering, poured upon the world Of drowsy hill and wood and lake Her moon-song.
And the breeze accompanied with hushed fingers On the birches.
Gently the dawn held out to me A golden handful of bird's-notes.