Hymn to the Morning

For September 1, the opening lines of a poem by Phillis Wheatley (emancipated from slavery in 1774).

Attend my lays, ye ever honour’d nine,
Assist my labours, and my strains refine;
In smoothest numbers pour the notes along,
For bright Aurora now demands my song.
Aurora hail, and all the thousand dies,
Which deck thy progress through the vaulted skies:
The morn awakes, and wide extends her rays…

For the rest of this poem, please see An Hymn to Phillis.