The cock is crowing, the stream is flowing, The small birds are singing, The sky is clear, and the trees are green And the day is brightly bringing.
The mind in bloom and a heart that glows, To rise and freely fly; While naught does sit that the spirit knows, Let man but glimpse and sigh.
A morn so young, and a joy immense, Shall rise and far depart; To nature’s flow, a rich expense, And heal the life of art.
- William Wordsworth