Morning

How pleasant is the morning! How innocent and bright! How pretty and surprising To see the sun uprising, A ball of golden light! While sleepy twilight melts away, And the delicious summer day Succeeds the silent night! How pleasant is the morning, When birds with merry cry Leap from their nests delighted, Earth and its dwellers slighted, Fling music at the sky! Oh let me, birds, with you rejoice, For, though less musical my voice, A singing heart have I. How pleasant is the morning! The flowers begin to shine; No longer idly dozing, Their happy eyes unclosing, Look laughing into mine. I watch them open one by one, Bidding good-morning to the sun By many a pretty sign. How pleasant is the morning! Dark night, I love thee not; To lie in dreamless slumber Through hours I cannot number Is childhood's hapless lot. Lovely the moon and stars may be; Their loveliness is not for me, In sleep they are forgot. How pleasant is the morning! Bright earth and dewy sky Delicious tears are weeping, And rivulets are leaping, And breezes flutter by; And birds and flowers and trees and grass, And changeful shadows as they pass, Enchant the eager eye. How pleasant is the morning! How bountiful is He Who made delight a duty And filled the earth with beauty, And gave us eyes to see! Rejoice, O happy world, rejoice, And raise to Him thy merry voice, Childhood serene and free.