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The Morning
When the bright sun over the world rises,
Its fiery glow marks the end to the night:
The longest night, the darkest of the nights
That ever hands of darkness could devise;
When its great face the people see at last,
A new beginning bring its sunlit rays
Like arrows to fire at darkness' hands,
Like arrows of fire to consume the past.
'O when this morn will come the sun will shine,
And ashes of the past destroyed will be;
And those of all the people - how many
Souls could not outlive their darkest time?
For though the sun may rise there will be still
Shards of night remaining - memories -
And threatening the fragile harmony
The innocence of soul does darkness kill.
But let us give in not; we must assail
Our suffering of times past and to come,
And with the divine light of the bright sun,
Though memories do haunt, we must prevail.
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We were doing a poetry unit at school and I wrote this piece. I hope you like it.