The village lays nestled deep in a valley
Surrounded on all sides by hills
The clock in the steeple of the old church
Strikes five of the morning
Those who need to be, are stirring
The cock on the farm, crows loudly
The cows are wandering down
From their night-time pasturing
To wait patiently ready for milking
The lane that runs eastward
Passes between the two highest hills
It is above this lane, the sun now rises
Gradually crowning the hills with glory
The hills that the villagers call
The gates of dawn.
Marilyn Shepperson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gates-of-dawn/
