Light breeze in the trees; Warming rays of the sun; Rest and relax: Week's work all done.
And all I will hear | |
Yes, moggie, I shall be there. Then you will find, to your surprise, That he is She, and that God Is really female, and has a knee, A warm and comfortable knee That any really sensible cat Would be proud to sit on And make his home. | |
I will expect to see friends and relations, Or a fair number of them... And, I might add, all our cats, especially Sam and Jim So that there will be someone I can talk to. You might as well talk to the cats as to people Who'd rather tell you their ideas than listen to yours any day. Which is normal enough, you might say, Since we're only human.
Anyway, | |
Whence those sparkling red-gold curls? Those wisping strands of Autumn dawn That breathe so lightl through lonely hearts And make of sullen even golden morn. Whence those saucy deep-brown pools That hide their secret darting thought And mockingly reflect the love that kneels, Whose service they, thus charming, bought. Whence those rosy flowers sweet That spread their petals tingling to beguile With shy and silent blush the surface clear Beside the whispering crimson lips that smile. These gifts of nature make you hers alone, Enhancing your rich beauty with her own. | |
Your voice to me yet sinks and trills, Sparkling and bubbling, again it thrills Me in its soft flowing glorious rills; And your laugh so sweet, in rippling stream, Yet flows through the valley it carved in my dream. | |
Sing, let your voice swell forth, Flow from the open throat; Sing, let the trilling melody Slow, fast, lilting lightly, Sweep out to the listening hills. Sing, my love, Sing to the twilight, Sing to the nightfall For the dawn is gone. Sing, call to the, hills And they will echoing resound; Sing, call to the seas, And their waves will crash reply; Sing, call to the stars, And they sparkle in response. Sing to the Goddess, o my love, For She has given us this day. |