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The Morn
The orb of night's dimely lit eventide is promptly to be a swan song. Early bright is to approach and with it chaperoning forenoon's ornaments, dewdrop, to frou daybreak's breast like pearls while pale moon beams linger, dancing faintly below compassionate stars which lavish as fair bijoux upon the nighttide from leurs beaux yeux, bandé to night's fond caresses below. Refulgent, daybreak is overearly to open anew and to bid forth bounteous light. It is well-known the beauty it possesses. The sun shall come to behold out upon the environs beneath it with an open eye, bashing with a gaze it cannot shun. Thereupon the morn will faintly wane bournishing the full day's louminosity.
