Finding a field unsown, one morn

Once when you go out into the fields unsown,
You find the glory of the morn,
Filled with birds' song,

And you think how wonderful is it
To take the morning's greet,
Right into one's soul,

When all things appear lovely and gay,
Drenched by the new rays
Of Sun and the breaking of a new day,

Then you perhaps stop somewhere
Where you feel the cool air
Blowing through the hair,

At that moment precise,
You think of how Divinity lies
In the open wide Vast ocean of Sky.

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