Morning

Not least, ’t is ever my delight To drink the early morning light; To take the air upon my tongue And taste it while the day is young. So let my solace be the breath Of morning, when I move to death.

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  • Not least, ’t is ever my delight To drink the early morning light; To take the air upon my tongue And taste it while the day is young. So let my solace be the breath Of morning, when I move to death.