The Rising Sun

The sun rise up the clouds
Quietly she wakes from her slumber
She sucks up the mists on rooftops
And on the branches of trees
And she paints our land gold
Bringing warmth as she ascend
Revealing the wild places of the forest
And throwing her light upon the rivulet
So the waters shimmer brightly
And the leaves on trees glitter

Hail, the sun rises from the East

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