The mist has left the greening plain,/ The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,/ The coquette rose awakes again/ Her lovely self adorning.

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MORNING
The mist has left the greening plain,
The dew-drops shine like fairy rain,
The coquette rose awakes again
  Her lovely self adorning.
The Wind is hiding in the trees,
A sighing, soothing, laughing tease,
Until the rose says "Kiss me, please,"
  'Tis morning, 'tis morning.
With staff in hand and careless-free,
The wanderer fares right jauntily,
For towns and houses are, thinks he,
  For scorning, for scorning.
My soul is swift upon the wing,
And in its deeps a song I bring;
Come, Love, and we together sing,
  "'Tis morning, 'tis morning."
Paul Lawrence Dunbar