Up comes the sun with merry light And puts the dark to rout; It makes a very pleasant sight For me to write about. The river flowing to the sea Slips cheerily along; It's quite the proper thing for me To celebrate in song. The mountains rise on either hand Majestical to view, And I shall find them very grand To write a sonnet to. The ocean stretches far and wide, It fills a mighty cup; Some day I surely shall decide To write the ocean up. The city, with its rapid stream Of mortals gay or wan, Will make a very jolly theme To write an ode upon. So many pretty things I see Within the horizon's hem, And all are waiting anxiously For me to write of them. |