|
I hear the birds come greet me in my morning |
|
They sing the songs of love in tongues of ages past. |
|
And all the while a vision is unfolding, |
|
The Moorhen pipes at me, "don't sleep the day away". |
|
And so with cautious steps I tread |
|
A measured path through vale and rook, |
|
And many signs you'd want to take me with you. |
|
And I go down to the Landing. |
|
Heron's Flood flows on storm-clothed |
|
As the harbour lights guide the wanderers home. |
|
I see the sun come greet me in his dawning, |
|
He holds the seed of life within his aged hands. |
|
And, in the sky, a vast procession streaming, |
|
Royal banners held aloft to mark the halcyon time. |
|
And so I walk in meadows below, |
|
Amongst the springs and weevil-gall, |
|
In myriad throngs the grass will take me with you. |
|
And I climb up to the Hawk's Throne, |
|
Cragshorn lies at Umbrian |
|
And the marram-slopes span the sapient sky. |
|
I feel the night come bidding me his greeting, |
|
He draws a glowing veil upon a sleepy world. |
|
And in the sky the stars roll through the heavens, |
|
Below, the new-hatched dove stares wondrously above. |
|
And so to Esma I am come |
|
To forge a passageway through time |
|
And all, too soon, you'd come to take me with you. |
|
And I strike north to the veld-plains, |
|
Dorn Ridge melts in snow-gold. |
|
As the Moorhen |
|
Pipes the pinkery moon. |
|
Birdsong, so sweetly, hear them calling you. |
|
Birdsong, so sweetly, hear them calling you. |
