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 field 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.

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