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GOOD MORN!
Good morn! good morn! see the sweet light breaking
O'er lull and dale, to greet thy waking;
The dark grey clouds are flitting away,
And the young sun sheds forth a twilight ray;
And a halo of bloom is in the skies,
Yet the night of slumber is on thine eyes.
The opening dew lies fresh on the flower,
And sweetly cool is the youthful hour;
And the birds are twittering their tender song,
The bright and weeping boughs among;
And all seems fresh, and with rapture rife,
While wakening into conscious life.
O rouse thee! rouse thee! the precious time
Is fleeting fast, and merrily chime
The morning bells; and the beautiful view
Thy touch should arrest, is fading too.
The glow of the cloud is darkening fast,
And the sunny mist is almost past;
And thy lyre is lying all unstrung,
And thy matin hymn is still unsung: