Purple dawn
Gay dawn is dancing on the wheat,
Purple fingers and rosy feet,
The sun smiles dazzlingly,
It�s morning beams flit o�er the trees.
Horses stamp in fields of grain,
Jump for joy and shake their manes,
Grey butterflies on wings of gold,
Fly in groups from flowery wold,
The birds, triumphant, raise their beaks,
Mix their song with the song of creeks.
Flowers lift their lovely heads,
Stretch their roots in the flower beds,
Then turn their faces to the sun,
While dew across their petals runs.
The dawn dances on the streams,
A morning strait from lovely dreams,
It pirouettes upon the lake,
Leaves sparkling sunlight in its wake,
Touches fawns upon their faces,
Then joyful westward it races.