In my garden hear the lark
Carol aloft;
Hear the dove her matins sing
In answer soft.
The night has fled away;
Good morrow! lovely day.
Dawn has touched with fairy finger
All things near,
Left a dewdrop on each blossom
Like a tear
Sing! merry thrush, on high
To the breaking summer sky.
Cobwebs, quiver in the sunlight
Sparkling bright,
Daisies ope their starry petals
To the light.
So with a rosy dawn
Comes up this summer morn!
Horatia Browne.
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