I was heavy with the even, When she lit her glimmering tapers Round the day's dead sanctities. I laughed in the morning's eyes.
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The City is of Night; perchance of Death, But certainly of Night; for never there Can come the lucid Morning's fragrant breath After the dewy dawning's cold grey air.
james thomsonHappy insect! what can be In happiness compared to thee? Fed with nourishment divine, The dewy Morning's gentle wine! Nature waits upon thee still, And thy verdant cup does fill; 'Tis fill'd wherever thou dost tread, Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
Abraham CowleyStoop, boys: this gate Instructs you how to adore the heavens and bows you To Morning's holy office.
william shakespeare