When from the opening chambers of the east <br />The morning springs, in thousand liveries drest, <br />The early larks their morning tribute pay, <br />And, in shrill notes, salute the blooming day. <br />Refreshed fields with pearly dew do shine, <br />And tender blades therewith their tops incline. <br />Their painted leaves the unblown flowers expand, <br />And with their odorous breath perfume the land. <br />The crowing cock and chattering hen awakes <br />Dull sleepy clowns, who know the morning breaks. <br />The herd his plaid around his shoulders throws, <br />Grasps his dear crook, calls on his dog, and goes <br />Around the fold: he walks with careful pace, <br />And fallen clods sets in their wonted place; <br />Then opes the door, unfolds his fleecy care, <br />And gladly sees them crop their morning fare! <br />Down upon easy moss he lays, <br />And sings some charming shepherdess's praise.<br /><br />James Thomson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-morning-in-the-country/
