Dawn is the time when darkness becomes light; br A time when darkness disappears from sight. br The ashen veil slowly fades away, br To reveal another brand new day. br br Up in the trees, the little birds awake, br And a pretty chorus, they now do make. br There is no other music on earth, quite as sweet, br As their cheerful chorus of twitters and tweets. br br To the birds' pretty chorus, I lend an ear, br And am filled inside with joy and cheer. br The little birds are so jolly when they sing; br I wonder if they know of the joy they bring? br br It is a treat to hear the birds trilling in the trees; br The sound is carried to my ears, upon the breeze. br Their symphony is carried aloft to where I lay; br Such sweet music, no instrument can ever play. br br I do not often wake that early in the morn; br To witness another new day being born. br It is a magical time of the day, I think, br But, I am often still having forty winks. br br So, for me, to hear their music is very rare, br But, I consider it beautiful, beyond compare. br Maybe, I should make a date, and set my alarm, br So as, more often, by their songs, I am charmed.