'Tis a beautiful world in the early morn,
When all verdure is washed with dew;
When all that is evil is fast asleep,
And the distant sun is new.

The birds, who follow their Maker's plan
go to bed when day is done,
And awake, full-throated with hymns of praise,
To herald the rising sun.

Ah, the world is lovely at 6 a.m.
When man-made schemes are asleep.
And the wee musicians of earth and sky
A wondrous vigil keep.

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