Morning Light
The dawn comes sweetly breaking, Through the curtains of the morn; While light the hearts awakening, And the world is softly born.
The flowers greet with colors bright, The trees sway in the breeze; The brooklet sings with pure delight, And whispers through the trees.
The sun paints golden splendor, On the hills that greet the day; So let me keep this memory, Of the light that lights my way.
- Lizette Woodworth Reese