The mist has left the greening plain, <br />The dew-drops shine like fairy rain, <br />The coquette rose awakes again <br />Her lovely self adorning. <br /> <br />The Wind is hiding in the trees, <br />A sighing, soothing, laughing tease, <br />Until the rose says "Kiss me, please," <br />'Tis morning, 'tis morning. <br /> <br />With staff in hand and careless-free, <br />The wanderer fares right jauntily, <br />For towns and houses are, thinks he, <br />For scorning, for scorning. <br />My soul is swift upon the wing, <br />And in its deeps a song I bring; <br />Come, Love, and we together sing, <br />"'Tis morning, 'tis morning."<br /><br />Paul Laurence Dunbar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/morning/
