Шарлотта Дакре (Charlotte Dacre)

Morning

SEE light the hills adorning,
    The lark begins her strains,
As brightly gleams the morning,
    Wide breaking o'er the plains.

See ev'ry star retiring,
    And ev'ry dew exhale,
See morn with joy inspiring
    The songsters of the vale.

Behold yon cloud, how glorious!
    That captive holds the sun,
Which now breaks forth victorious,
    His radiant course to run.

Begone, each little fairy,
    In misty robe array'd,
With ev'ry spirit airy
    That haunts the desert glade.

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