A Spring In a Glade

In a far off field are dark green blades growing and a lovely daisy nodding, In a far off meadow a king-cup stands there, with a yellow primrose so fair, In a far off glade there is green grass growing, there I will rest my feet, A warm bright sun shines in the sky and a warm breeze closed my tired eyes. The grass in the glade is sweet and long, softer better than any noble bed, And the sweetness of the grass and the warm sun made me dream many dreams, Then suddenly awakened by the low roar from from a waterfall from far away, I realized it was raining and the noise is from a thousand drops on leaves. Now standing under a tree the rain is soft and gentle, gracious and warm, New life came into me as I stand beneath the oak listening to gentle winds, The steady rain will wet meadows and mead's, down through cracks in the peat, It will travel underground meeting other raindrops and flow as spring water. Clear springs feeding the runners, swelling brooks make their way to rivers, There are silver drops on the glades flowers and trees and far away is a rainbow, The sun returns, the bright beams reflect off the wet grass as little prisms, And a bine of crow's-foot entangled in the branch of an elder tree glistens.