Classic Poem

The morning comes—the drops of dew
Hang on the grass and bushes too
The sheep more eager bite the grass
Whose moisture gleams like drops of glass
The hiefer licks in grass and dew
That makes her drink and fodder too
The little bird his morn song gives
His breast wet with the dripping leaves
Then stops abruptly just to fly
And catch the wakened butterfly
That goes to sleep behind the flowers
Or backs of leaves from dews and showers
The yellowhammer haply blest
Sits by the dyke upon her nest
The long grass hides her from the day
The water keeps the boys away
The morning sun is round and red
As crimson curtains round a bed
The dew drops hang on barley horns
As beads the necklace thread adorns
The dew drops hang wheat ears upon
Like golden drops against the sun
Hedge-sparrows in the bush cry ‘tweet’
O'er nests larks winnow in the wheat
'Till the sun turns gold and gets more high
And paths are clean, and grass gets dry
And longest shadows pass away
And brightness is the blaze of day.