When I awake at morn, refreshed, renewed,
Glad with the gladness of the jocund day
And jubilant with all the birds of May,
My spirit shrinks from Night’s dull quietude.
With it and Sleep I have a deadly feud.
I hear the young winds in the maples play,
The river singing on its happy way,
The swallows twittering to their callow brood.
The fresh, fair earth is full of joyous life;
The tree-tops toss in billowy unrest;
The very mountain shadows are astir!
With eager heart I thrill to join the strife;
Doing, not dreaming, to my soul seems best,
And I am lordly Day’s true worshipper!