Day to the washing seas, and to the patient land,

And to the little nautilus upon the sand.

Day to the toiler gone afield, and to the child,

And to the peetweet’s brood amid the marshes wild.

While these awake to toil and those awake to play,

How glad are all that breathe, that night has winged away!

For light and life are friends, and night their ancient foe.

Awake, ye birds, to song, ye buds, begin to blow!