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a friday morning -- a poem

The sleepy world in darkness slumbers now,
the quiet doze before the rising dawn,
a peace that knows no troubled sigh nor doubt:
the world in shadow, dream its only law.
A seeping light begins to gild the clouds
like joy as it infuses idle thoughts.
The blossoms all with dewy crystal crowned
are waved by breeze that tumbles on the lawn
as birds are throwing off a raucous sound.
The early-waking heart is touched by awe,
to glory vowed.