Soft , rosy, sweet, on nature's wings there steals the dawn; Each songbird waking, almost whispering sings, See, comes the morn! A soft breeze o'er earth's fields with reverence blows, Fearful lest aught too rough should bid each flower unclose. In wondrous mystery of color-dreams the dawn-light grows, And almost breathless nature seems in golden hues; Till with one shout of life earth's grateful throng Welcomes with pulsing joy the risen sun! 'Tis past, and twilight comes with saddening ray.
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