The village lays nestled deep in a valley <br />Surrounded on all sides by hills <br />The clock in the steeple of the old church <br />Strikes five of the morning <br />Those who need to be, are stirring <br />The cock on the farm, crows loudly <br />The cows are wandering down <br />From their night-time pasturing <br />To wait patiently ready for milking <br />The lane that runs eastward <br />Passes between the two highest hills <br />It is above this lane, the sun now rises <br />Gradually crowning the hills with glory <br />The hills that the villagers call <br />The gates of dawn.<br /><br />Marilyn Shepperson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gates-of-dawn/
