Classic Poem

See the day begins to break,
And the light shoots like a streak
Of subtil fire, the wind blows cold,
Whilst the morning doth unfold;
Now the Birds begin to rouse,
And the Squirril from the boughs
Leaps to get him Nuts and fruit;
The early Lark that erst was mute,
Carrols to the rising day
Many a note and many a lay.
Fr. The Faithful Shepherdess , IV , i