Ah! the beauty of mornings, as the dew hugs the grass, When the freshness of nature through the stillness will pass, And the call of the lark fills the air with a tune, In the soft tender light of the sweet coming noon.
The cuckoo sings sweetly from a hidden retreat, While the flowers unfold, with their glories complete; All the world is a marvel, a verse to exclaim, As the heart speaks in whispers, and nature’s the name.
- C J Dennis