Skysong
My heart flies like a songbird
singing to his mate.
Though you cannot hear my melody
and summer's come so late.
You cannot hear me singing
but still I sing my song.
There'll be room enough for sadness.
Our time on earth's not long.
Our time here is determined,
but still for joy we seek,
and my voice will still be rising
though it be strong or weak.
Though we be born in sorrow
to love we are re-born
and the skylark sings his spring song
as the farmer sows the corn.
13/7/03 9:32
