She comes riding early in the morning round
about four to seven
No one's ever
out at that hour
With eyes that see a touch the morning fly secretly
And the leaves slow their commotion
And the great trees gently sway Like an ocean on a still day
And raising praise our arms to the sun
Who
announces the day has begun
At eight frames a second And velvety shadows in misty meadows
Are
changing colour so softly
With care the sun puts colour in his drawing
And rises to inspect his masterpiece this morning so perfect
And as she rides through gold and silver miles
Only the sun is sure what it is that she smiles for
She leaves
with no sign of what she has done
Though
her morning rides known by everyone
I'll tell you her name and it's dawn
