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THE MORNING STILL

The morning sprang, as from a trap
the cool hammer of the early summer dawn
Collides wsith my sleep adorned face

The cock crows in the distant farmlands
and the cleansed air, as from a mountain stream
Penetrates my unfitting wear.

The still of morn, silent yet strong
provokes a hidden life of most virgin state
With-held for the favoured few

The morning state at rest.