The Song Bird
There is a garden in my soul,
A garden full of singing birds,
Their wings have never known control
In any cage of words.
A garden full of singing birds,
Their wings have never known control
In any cage of words.
They come from fairy lands afar,
From lands of Dawn and lands of Night,
The mystic birds of fate they are:
God only marks their flight.
From lands of Dawn and lands of Night,
The mystic birds of fate they are:
God only marks their flight.
Their wings beat round my house of Dreams,
Beneath the eaves they build and sing . . .
And always each one's coming seems
A strange and sudden thing!
Beneath the eaves they build and sing . . .
And always each one's coming seems
A strange and sudden thing!
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