This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres and temples lie
Open unto the fields and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

The morning pouring everywhere, its golden glory on the air.

The glory of the day was in her face,
The beauty of the night was in her eyes.
And over all her loveliness, the grace
Of Morning blushing in the early skies.

Clothing the palpable and the familiar
With golden exhalations of the dawn.

As night is withdrawn
From these sweet-springing meads and bursting boughs of May,
Dream, while the innumerable choir of day
Welcome the dawn.

There’s a morning when presence comes
over your soul. You sing like a rooster
in your earth-colored shape. Your heart
hears and, no longer frantic, begins
to dance.

Tis a morning pure and sweet,
And a dewy splendour falls
On the little flower that clings
To the turrets and the walls;
'Tis a morning pure and sweet,
And the light and shadow fleet;
She is walking in the meadow,
And the woodland echo rings;
In a moment we shall meet;
She is singing in the meadow,
And the rivulet at her feet
Ripples on in light and shadow
To the ballad that she sings.

And through the window in the wall
Comes streaming in on sunlight wings
A million bright ambassadors of morning.

She stood amid the morning dew,
And sang her earliest measure sweet,
Sang as the lark sings,speeding fair, to touch and taste the purer air

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm, Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm, Yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new, In city and in forest they smiled like me and you, But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie, your eyes are soft with sorrow, Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with angels.