The flowers smell so fresh and sweet,
Oozing over the fields their scent;
The grass so soft beneath the feet,
Adds beauty and proper consent.
The little birds with tiny wings,
Chant their melodies with a swing;
Hung on trees on tiny hay strings,
Waking the queen to meet her king.
I whispered: there comes a time
Between dawn and dusk rays,
My heart could not possibly rhyme
To your flowery strewn pathways.
|
