There are little tiny Muselings playing in my head
They whisper in my ear and follow me to bed
Into my soul they gently creep, singing ‘till I fall asleep
Morning finds me filled with wonder and delight
My eyes can only see the magic of the night
What should I do? Blessed with all this beauty
To my own heart be true; an honour not a duty

To
.......................

Pick up my pen and write