1. The morn has dawned with duskiness yet lingering,
Like speckled frost its traces on the hill-slope cling.

2. With plaints melodious he doth make all hearers yearn,
But mourns no creature like the Yá'ú mourner lone.

3. From blows right frequent falls the morning star of blue,
Whose eye nor fails nor yet denies the tale as true.

4. Would that the huntsman might behold him as he flies,
Self-ransomed with his mother dear who ransom gave.

5. After his harmless ramblings cease to spread alarm,
The geese no more will bend their necks and take to flight.

6. No wings will overshadow him from hurt him to guard,
When he, though faring forth, returns from perilous flight.

7. Without some charm withdrawn from him his food to mar,
Naught would avail the utmost praise to keep him sound.

8. He whom the Lord inspired for us to frame and fix,
Blest be the Lord Most High who wisely shaped and planned.