Morning (George Shepard Burleigh, parody by seasons)

MORNING (803a) : Pastoral the Ninth
Autumn
Far in the east is born anew
The light of darkness, wondrous fair
Flashes and sparkles the pure dew
Bright jewels of the upper air.

Winter
No voice is heard of toad or birds
With music from the leafless spray,
And quivering stand the freezing herd
Right glad that sol escorts the day.

Spring
With sluggish pace the brooklets flow
Goes grazing at the gold tip’t hill,
Then hurries to the lakelet low,
And there in morning light lies still.

Summer
Full genius dwells among the trees,
Pure minister of holy love,
Wafting their thoughts on every breeze
Lifting our joyous souls above.