"the wild echoes flying"

I had forgotten just how early, and dark, it is in the morning, when I must get up for schooldays. I had forgotten. As I staggered along towadrs the T, I was mopily thinking "summer is over, summer is over", when I looked up and saw the dawn rising in glowing rose and gold --- and then looked across the blue bowl of sky to the moon, profile to me and facing the Sun. That made things a little better.

So, instead of a mournful 'Moo', here is a poem about the long richly-hued light poured across the landscape by the rising sun. (OK, it's really about sunset, but whatever.)

( The Splendor Falls, by Alfred Lord Tennyson )