At the dawn of the day when the frogs yell
beneath the streams, the morning mist could tell
of a day where sands would fly while birds smile,
Beneath the sky doth morning weep a while.
My sight has the smell of pleasant love spell,
Written on the sky in my blind mist dwell-
And the gleaming dew-drops fell while I smile
and drink astream of sunshine from heaven's smile.
The echoes of brooks like the dings of bell-
Makes ' heart leaps like the harbour of the well,
How sweet it was when rhythm lose a while?
As the wailing chirps of birds fade a mile.
The pleasant roses smile above the hill,
The rumbling winds dance 'round the gleaming hill.
As the gleaming sun stand upon the sea-
The birds own the sky, whose lips I could see.
The birds are Angels whose hill I can't hill,
The birds are lips of endless voices still.
Lord, what immortal are pleased things I see?
That I be a fool before forty three.
The rumbling winds dance 'round the gleaming hill-
As their wings flap like rainbows on the hill.
Eyes can you see the blessing my lips see?
The birds own the sky, whose lips I could see.
"words from the innocent mind"
Philip Peace