In the cool morning the sun rises.
Over the sleeping jungle lies:
Cold, still fog—from the sun it flies
To wake the sleep of lonely night.
The parrot’s feathers shake with chill.
As through the trees the sun does peep;
To wake new life in things that sleep—
And banish all the thoughts of night!
The tiger’s hairs stand up on end.
The monkey wakes to scream and shout:
“The dawn has come. The sun is out!”
Vanished now are the things of night—
For dawn is only the reign of Light!
Copyright © Roger Young