Picked Fence Morning Glory, Mt. Pleasent, South Carolina (August 12, 2021) — Image by kenne
We wreathed about our darling’s head
The morning-glory bright;
Her little face looked out beneath
So full of life and light,
So lit as with a sunrise,
That we could only say,
“She is the morning-glory true,
And her poor types are they.”
So always from that happy time
We called her by their name,
And very fitting did it seem,–
For sure as morning came,
Behind her cradle bars she smiled
To catch the first faint ray,
As from the trellis smiles the flower
And opens to the day.
— from The Morning-Glory by Maria White Lowell
Becoming is Superior to Being 
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