A greeting

Good morning, Life -- and all

Things glad and beautiful.

My pockets nothing hold,

But he that owns the gold,

The Sun, is my great friend --

His spending has no end.

Hail to the morning sky,

Which bright clouds measure high;

Hail to you birds whose throats

Would number leaves by notes;

Hail to you shady bowers,

And you green fields of flowers.

Hail to you women fair,

That make a show so rare

In cloth as white as milk --

Be't calico or silk:

Good morning, Life -- and all

Things glad and beautiful.