Awake, awake my little Boy!
Thou wast thy Mother’s only joy:
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
Awake! thy Father does thee keep.

“O, what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O Father, I saw my Mother there,
Among the lillies by waters fair.

Among the lambs clothed in white
She walked with her Thomas in sweet delight.
I wept for joy, like a dove I mourn—
O when shall I return again?”

Dear child, I also by pleasant streams
Have wandered all night in the Land of Dreams;
But though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.

“Father, O Father, what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?
The Land of Dreams is better far
Above the light of the Morning Star.”

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

Every night we close our eyes
and miss one of the best aspects of life:
the light in the dark.

Every day we are
One step closer to the end
Let's enjoy the ride

Today I'm a bit blue
And I'm not sure why
I don't have the flu
I'm healthy, it's true.
So why am I so blue?

Today I'm a little down.
Why would that be?
I'm wearing a frown.
My feelings are brown.
I don't know why I'm down.

Tomorrow I know
What I'm going to be.
I'll put on a show.
My happiness will grow.
Tomorrow, I know.

Tomorrow I'll be happy.
And I won't be blue.
I'll write a bunch of really sappy
Poems for you.

Tomorrow I'll be happy.
Tomorrow I'll be glad.
Tomorrow I'll be golden
And I won't be sad.

The robin’s wings flapped up and down as sun’s first light lay on her crown.
Flying, gently flying.
The stars shined high up in the sky, a glowing comet floated by.
Flying, gently flying,
The child laughed as his kite flew, he ran through grass all dabbed with dew.
Flying, gently flying.
The dandelion felt a draft of crisp, clean air support its shaft.
Flying, gently flying.
From way down low to far up high, from dew-dabbed grass to deep blue sky.
Are gifts that guide us, everywhere, from flying birds to crisp, clean air.
And these are those that earth is drowned, that surely make the world go round.
The place where everything is always, flying, gently flying.