Just a little poem, on this cold spring day. Even with the wind, and the chill in the air, the birds have been singing outside my door...
Sweet bird, thy bower is ever green,
Thy sky is ever clear:
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year.
Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee!
We'd make, with joyful wing,
Our annual visit o'er the globe,
Companions of the spring.
~ John Logan ~
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| This free image was shared by Dawn of The Feathered Nest. |
