“Now Morn her rosy steps in th' eastern clime

Avancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl,

When Adam waked, so customed, for his sleep

Was airy light, from pure digestion bred,

And temperate vapours bland, which th' only sound

Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan,

Lightly dispersed, and the shrill matin song

Of birds on every bough; so much the more

His wonder was to find unwakened Eve

With tresses discomposed, and glowing cheek,

As through unquiet rest: he on his side….”

Paradise Lost / John Milton