Sunday, September 26, 2010

a fine day

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after all the rain, the sun
shines on hill and grassy mead;
fly into the garden, child,
you are very glad indeed.

for the days have been so dull,
oh, so special dark and drear,
that you told me, 'mr. sun ☼
has forgotten we live here.'

dew upon the lily lawn,
dew upon the garden beds;
daintly from all the leaves
pop the little primrose heads.

and the violets in the copse
with their parasols of green
take a little peek at you;
they're the bluest you have seen.

on the lilac tree a bird
singing first a little not,
then a burst of happy song
bubbles in his lifted throat.

o the sun, the comfy sun!
this the song that you must sing,
❝thank you for the birds, the flowers,
thank you, sun, for everything.❞