The cystal dawn in silence breaks
the world is hushed and still . . .
the sleeping birds to morn awake . . .
beside a gurgling rill.
The fragrance of the dewy flowers
like incense seems to rise . . .
diffusing beauty through the hours . . .
beneath the clear, blue skies.
The pines are whispering soft and low
a haunting melody . . .
of lands where soft the blue winds blow
afar beyond the sea.
And in and out, among the trees
the fairy sunbeams play . . .
they dance with every wayward breeze . . .
to usher in the day!