I was back home, from my trip to the big city
On my way then, I did see a show of beauty
In the green pastures, dotted with poppies
Waddling along, was a merry flock of geese
I kept watching, watching the pastoral scene
A chain of domestic parade, along the green
Around a stone old house, nestled in the mead
Up which, creep a net of vernal and wild weeds
But, the place is yet, vivid, amidst a flat hill
And Spring is breathing its glamour, fairly still
In the far back stage, towers the mountain's tip
The blue misty flanks, wrapped within fleecy grip
And down here, merry birds hover and past, fleet.
As if a call were heard, or an echo of seasonal heat
Still the white line of a breed that is called geese
Making a fine show, celebrating a fast, fine Spring
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Of all the times I love one
A silent stream at setting sun
Errant crimson clouds floating far
And a rising star, glimmering afar
Of all the places, I like where
The land is green the air is fair
A flock of sheep of natural flair
Browses where the grass is neat
And when at dawn, the bell tolls
Or when the twilight folds again and rolls
And the herd, a tired silence holds
Coming back full, for home sends calls
A quiet landscape in the open space
Along a row of pine trees, where to pace
A thick forest nestling varied birds' race
From where, a piney perfume exhales
To be walking along a crystal clear brook
While streaks of water enchanting your look
You stream with the tide where lakes abide
Where dragonflies skim, bugs on waters, ride
Or to be charmed by the dusky shadows
As they snake among the burnt furrows
Where eucalyptus trees swing a tune
Chiming with a flock of doves that croon
And then comes the night to lull to sleep
A birdie baby under a moonlight peep
Leaving to dreams, all the Earthly souls
Beneath a heavens' hand, The Almighty rules
