YOU remember, I suppose, <br />How the August sun arose, <br />And how his face <br />Woke to trill and carolette <br />All the cages that were set <br />About the place. <br /> <br />In the tender morning light <br />All around lay strange and bright <br />And still and sweet, <br />And the gray doves unafraid <br />Went their morning promenade <br />Along the street.<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-ottilie/
