I love this time when all the birds begin to sing,
Through meadows, and through the fields the sound rings,
It echos through the glens and the dales loud and clear;
The birds song I can hear!
The buds are just begining to bloom,
No more days of gloom,
The flowers are just begining to bud at my feet;
The bubble of the once frozen creek;
Makes a music that is sweet!
As I am dreming by the creek, Hark!
There is the song of the Meadow Lark,
Spring o' the year,
No more time for sadness its time to cheer!
~Marian~
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 6:33 PM UTC
I love this time when all the birds begin to sing,
Through meadows, and through the fields the sound rings,
It echos through the glens and the dales loud and clear;
The birds song I can hear!
The buds are just begining to bloom,
No more days of gloom,
The flowers are just begining to bud at my feet;
The bubble of the once frozen creek;
Makes a music that is sweet!
As I am dreming by the creek, Hark!
There is the song of the Meadow Lark,
Spring o' the year,
No more time for sadness its time to cheer!
~Marian~
