Not sure why, but I was the one who waited in the garden Doubting the morning and the early light. I watched the mist lift off its own soft burden, Per

Not sure why, but I was the one who waited in the garden Doubting the morning and the early light. I watched the mist lift off its own soft burden, Permitting not believing my own sight. reminded me (I guess it's kinda iambic pentameter) of this in the 1st act of Hamlet: But look, the morn, in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastward hill. russet: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russet_(cloth) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russet_(cloth) mantle: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mantle_(clothing) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mantle_(clothing)