Here morning in the ploughman's songs is met
 Ere yet one footstep shows in all the sky,
 And twilight in the east, a doubt as yet,
 Shows not her sleeve of grey to know her by.
 Woke early, I arose and thought that first
 In winter-time of all the world was I.
 The old owls might have hallooed if they durst,
 But joy just then was up and whistled by
 A merry tune which I had known full long,
 But could not to my [mem'ry]1 wake it back,
 Until the ploughman changed it to the song.
 O happiness, how simple is thy track!
 -Tinged like the willow shoots, the east's young brow
 Glows red and finds thee singing at the plough.