The Sun Is First To Rise
Elizabeth Coatsworth

Up in the early morning,
The sun is first to rise;
The little birds begin to sing,
The farmers rub their eyes.
The rabbits hop down roads of dew,
The newborn baby cries,
And the gray kitten runs and leaps,
Chasing white butterflies.
Away to bed with darkness.
The sun is first to go.
Across their field with heavy wings
There flaps a shiny crow;
The children put away their toys,
Their steps are dragging slow;
And in the woods the spotted fawn
Lies close beside the doe.