UP, SISTERS, MORN IS BREAKING.

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Up, sisters! morn is breaking
Over the mountains grey,
As, borne on silvered pinions,
She ushers in the day.

She comes, and at her bidding
The empress of the night,
And starry hosts of heaven,
Veil their supernal light.

Scarce has their empire ended,
O'er the awakening earth,
When morning, fresh and joyous,
With dewdrops clad comes forth.

And now the great sun's chariot,
Led by the rosy hours,
Sweeps through the heavens proudly,
And o'er fond nature towers.

The grand, majestic sun-god,
Pavilioned is on high,
And throned in golden splendour
He reigns o'er earth and sky.

Dispersing gloom and sadness,
Giving to all new birth,
Dispensing light and gladness,
O'er the rejoicing earth.

Up, then, fair sisters, early
His call from sleep obey,
His first sweet healthful teachings
Will sanctify the day.

Inhale his breath delicious,
Its freshness health bestows;
It tints the cheeks with colours
Of Persia's lovely rose.

Up, then, at nature's bidding,
Over the hills away,
With freshened pulses glowing,
To hail the King of Day.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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