An aubade for the river

To that place where the river
Slows her speed to take rest
Once in morning's wintry light
There caught the misty sight

Few birds which caught the morning's hue
Woke up from their sleep with moist dew,
And feeling the light upon their wings
They perhaps for the beauty did sing

And the river as quiet as an enchanted lass
Held her breath for a while as she passed
With soft, slow and silent steps
Morning as her with charm so draped.


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