Classic Poem

Beautiful Earth! O how can I refrain
From falling down to worship thee? Behold,
Over the misty mountains springs amain
The glorious Sun; his flaming locks unfold
Their gorgeous clusters, pouring o'er the plain
Torrents of light. Hark! Chanticleer has toll'd
His matin bell, and the lark's choral train
Warble on high hosannas uncontroll'd.

All nature worships thee, thou new-born day!
Blade, flower, and leaf, their dewy offerings pay
Upon the shrine of incense-breathing earth;
Birds, flocks, and insects, chaunt their morning lay;
Let me, too, join in the thanksgiving mirth,
And praise, through thee, the God that gave thee birth.