When I rise in early morn
The summer sun slants pale and cool,
The sky laps limpid as a pool,
The river's like a lamb new-born—
Wide-eyed and staring softly white
Through mists of night.

When I throw the sheets aside
And stand clear-eyed upon the floor,
Bright the day streams out before,
Night and its dreams are scattered wide;
I hear the rosy robins shout,
“Come out! Come out!”

Clean is my thought as the morning dew,
Brave is my heart as the shafts of sun,
Strong as the hills that northward run,
Light as the clouds in the summer blue,
And I know that I'm fitly armed to slay
The toils of day.