Since rosy day is dawning,
And even as the eagle doth,
Will wish the world good morning.
The rose-bud in her woven bow’r
Atwixt the leaves is peeping,
And bares her bosom more and more,
For ’tis no hour for sleeping:
Then is it meet that I repose,
When such as these give warning?—
I’ll look abroad as doth the rose,