Hail, smiling morn

Hail smiling morn, that tips the hills with gold, that tips the hills with gold
At whose rosy fingers open wide the gates of day, the gates of day
At whose rosy fingers open wide the gates of day

All the bright face of nature doth unfold
At whose bright presence darkness flies away, flies away, flies away
Darkness flies away, darkness flies away
At whose bright presence darkness flies away, flies away, flies away
Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail!

(Repeat)Reginal Spofforth, 1810