A glimpse of green, a flitting wing, a song,
A golden voice in echoing glen is heard
A fleeting form, oft seen, oft glimpsed, soon gone.
Its mem’ry but a hushed and whispered word
Sweet effervescent laughter fills the air
As chimes set loose in wind will sing their tune
A voice as sweet as honey, soft as wind
Now whispers in the treetops night and noon.
A squirrel may have heard its echo last
While climbing fast aloft the highest tree,
Perhaps a gliding swallow felt it pass,
A breath of breeze sent from a distant sea
And once afar I glimpsed its faerie grace
Yet never caught the smile that wreathed its face
No comments:
Post a Comment